


Safe for Christmas

by musetraxed (muselives)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muselives/pseuds/musetraxed
Summary: After the global bio-terror attacks and the death of Adam Benford, Ingrid Hunnigan and Leon S. Kennedy are each dealing with their grief and their responsibilities in their own way. Hunnigan has become the director of the DSO and brought Helena Harper on as Leon's partner; both women share a personal mission of bringing the Family down.A wager between Helena and fellow DSO Agent Sherry Birkin puts Leon and Hunnigan on a collision course during the agency Christmas party. However, before they can do much about the sparks reignited after a decade of working together, the Family strikes, kidnapping Hunnigan. Leon races to her rescue but even once she's safe, they can't go back to the way things were before. The real question is do they even want to?
Relationships: Ingrid Hunnigan/Leon S. Kennedy
Kudos: 14
Collections: Hunnigan's DSO





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Callust and CatOnMyShirt. Additional details in the collection profile. Story edited only by myself, all mistakes my own.

It had been a while since anyone had even asked Leon if he would be attending the office Christmas party. Prior to the DSO, things were a little more scattered. Adam usually made an effort, maybe because he was always trying to build those connections, but what moved towards an off-hand remark in November had eventually fallen from their conversations entirely after the Eastern Slav Republic.

Sometimes Leon wondered if his anger with Adam had been too palpable that year even for formalities. He had forgiven him, eventually coming around to believing that he really hadn’t known what was going on with Scarecrow and that by the time everyone pulled back, he’d been too far in to just turn around and retreat.

Generally speaking, Leon didn’t do much for holidays, if he even remembered them. Life for the DSO was a life on call and some years he was at home, others he wasn’t. He didn’t think too much of it. Any family and friends he’d had before Raccoon City he’d pulled away from; the few he made after, well, Adam was the most calendar-minded of them.

But he shouldn’t have been surprised that Sherry would be the one to ask him about the office party this year. She had those bright blue eyes still filled with hope, even after all she had seen. When she had asked him to go with her, well, it seemed like a small enough thing to make her happy. They had been catching up slowly after Simmons, between assignments, and he was aware now of just how much she still looked up to him and Claire.

Claire. Thinking of his oldest friend made him smile. Sherry had told him with great excitement that she would be there too and how much she was looking forward to spending time with both of them. Leon had almost suggested blowing off the company gig in favor of dinner, just the three of them, but Sherry had talked excitedly about her other office friends and, well, he gave in. It made her happy and that was something. More than something--it was a really good thing. He just didn’t feel like he had a lot of those happening nowadays.

Outside, soft fluffy snowflakes were giving their best impression of a snow globe over DC. Leon had gotten used to being near the political action for Adam’s sake. He had only gone back to the president’s office once since his death for one meet-and-greet kind of thing. Mostly, he trusted Hunnigan who had stepped up to Director to tell him where he needed to be with things. DSO still answered to the president, it was just less personal to Leon now then it once had been.

Sherry was next to him as they walked up to the party, wearing an ice blue ballgown and teetering in her heels, holding onto his arm and talking with all the energy and excitement that made him remember her as a kid. The effects of the virus and her overcoming it made her look perpetually younger, something that led to a lot of people underestimating the not-so-rookie federal agent. Helena, Leon’s partner, had griped once that Sherry had four years on her and could probably have been mistaken for her fraternal twin.

Of course, Helena had also been won over by Sherry as they all settled in to the new DSO under Hunnigan’s leadership. The two women were close friends now, something else that Leon could put under his short list of ‘really good things’.

Although his partner was a lot less chipper and a lot more devious than Sherry. Which was why Leon was almost immediately skeptical when he and Sherry came in past the coat check and Helena Harper immediately met his gaze while biting back a grin. He gave her a look that suggested that he wasn’t going to take any comments from her on his suit (it was clean, it fit) or his actually showing up to this shindig.

Sherry, still balancing with a hold on his arm, waved enthusiastically to the brunette woman standing almost in profile to Helena, catching her attention and earning a less animated but no less warm wave back from Claire Redfield, who looked, Leon could admit, pretty stunning in her red floor-length evening gown.

But he had no sooner frowned in confusion at the back of the head of the third woman standing in their group then she turned around, those familiar hazel eyes locking with his and knocking the breath out of him.

Director Ingrid Hunnigan was always a sharp if conservative dresser and she looked absolutely as put-together as Leon would expect of her in any moment, especially an office party before God and everyone. Her hair, always pulled back off her face, had been styled into an elegant up-do, which, while not exactly surprising, was a lot more striking than he expected when her eyes met his from behind her signature glasses.

He wasn’t exactly aware of his gaze sweeping over the dark green cocktail dress she’d chosen, sleeveless and ending just below the knee, showing off more skin than he could ever remember seeing, even if all that really meant was her bared arms and a modest scoop neckline paired with an equally classic pearl necklace and pearl earrings.

He was aware afterwards, however, that his jaw had dropped and his mouth was open. He closed it quickly enough to make his teeth click, a sensation that almost made him grimace except that Hunnigan was still staring at him. Alright, he hadn’t ever really dressed up for the office--but a suit and tie, even one he’d bothered to get fitted at Adam’s request, couldn’t be that remarkable in a sea of fellow co-workers who’d gone the same route for formalities.

Still, he could have sworn Hunnigan was blushing as Sherry led him towards the three women who were now standing in a half-circle to welcome them. Helena, in the middle, had chosen a classic little black dress and was holding a flute of champagne with a smug expression. Leon was still too stunned to think much of it though as Claire reeled him in for a hug, finally cutting through the haze he’d been in by saying to him, “It’s so good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he managed reflexively, finding it was easy to mean it as he pulled back and gave her a smile. She, too, had a bit more of a knowing look that he was ready to deal with and as he turned from her to greet the other women, he seemed to have composed himself enough to add politely, “Helena. Director. Merry Christmas.”

“You’re a little early, Kennedy,” Helena ribbed him before taking a sip from her glass.

Sherry started saying something about _the Christmas season_ but Leon’s attention had gone back to Hunnigan who only managed to look at him briefly before he gaze dropped then went back to the other women who had easily fallen into conversation.

Not sure if they’d turn on him if they heard him, Leon lowered his voice and turned towards her slightly before he added, “You look good, Hunnigan.”

 _Now_ he was certain she was blushing and damned if that didn’t send a thrill through him. Suddenly he could remember being 27 years old and turning on his comms to a beautiful, no-nonsense face that looked just a little young for the work they were doing, introducing herself as his support for his mission.

She seemed to find her voice long enough to murmur back, “So do you, Agent Kennedy.”

Ah. The full title. Maybe it stung a little but now Leon was too aware of how she was looking almost anywhere but him as the three women kept talking. They’d occasionally draw them in, usually Claire asking something she didn’t know about or Sherry looking at Leon like she was seeking approval from a big brother. Leon started to relax into the flow of conversation, even more so when he caught Hunnigan easing down too out of the corner of his eye.

A server came by their group when Helena finished her glass but before he could try to put new ones in their hands, Sherry gestured they should move towards a table, away from the dance floor.

Leon, turning first towards the quartet that was playing as softly as they could get away with in this ballroom, looked back to Hunnigan and in a moment of pure nerve asked, “Actually, Director, would you care to dance?”

He caught Sherry’s jaw dropping and yes, that was a triumphant look that flashed over Helena’s features, no matter how quick she was to mask it. Claire, being somewhere between the two women in expressiveness and being a lot more confident in an old friendship gave Leon a look that both ribbed him and encouraged him.

But he was only aware of their reactions on a periphery as his eyes went to Hunnigan’s. Those expressive eyes that had such a strange way of being open with him, even though they never talked about personal things, only the work--the work they’d been doing together for almost ten years together now.

“I’d love to.” The flush returned to her cheeks as she added a quiet, “Agent Kennedy,” as if their little audience of three gave any care for formalities.

And truthfully, Leon felt more than a few eyes on them as he offered her his hand and took her out to the dance floor. They were more or less forgotten when she looked up from their feet with an expression of surprise as he started leading her with some actual competency over the dance floor.

He smiled. “Adam insisted.”

With just two words, he could see the understanding blossom in her expression and he didn’t know what was more gratifying: the fact that she knew him so damn well or that he should thank Adam’s memory for insisting her learn a few niceties to get by on, like dancing, to surprise Hunnigan.

The music was clearer here, out on the ballroom floor. Leon had to give credit to whoever had done the set up for this gig; the murmur of the dining area was a pleasant background while the soft strings set the mood for dancing. They weren’t the only couple or he was certain she would have been hesitant to take him up on this.

Still, all he could really focus on was Hunnigan, watching her as he led her carefully around the floor, her eyes sometimes meeting his, sometimes drifting to his shoulder or his chest as she seemed to get lost in thought. He didn’t mind, just like he didn’t mind the silence. Somehow, conversation felt like it would have been strained after what had already been said, little as it was. He found himself just enjoying the sensation of her hand in his, her hand on his shoulder, and his on the small of her back as he waltzed her along the floor.

The song wound down and while other couples broke apart for scattered applause, Leon was a lot slower to let go of his partner. Her eyes came up again and there was a willfulness to them that was familiar. “Thank you, Leon,” she said, finally seeming to trust herself enough to try his name.

It brought on a grin that, well, might not have been strictly collegial. “It was my pleasure. Believe me.”

Her eyes darted away again before she rallied. “I’m going to step outside for a bit.”

“Sure.” His eyes still hadn’t left her face, observing her reactions, drinking them in. He couldn’t ever remember flustering her this much. “Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all,” she answered a little too quickly as she pulled away from him to walk towards one of the low balconies that faced out over the garden square, refusing to touch him.

He moved after her easily, unconcerned, falling in just a half a step behind her at her elbow. Part of him wanted to respect her need for space. The rest of him couldn’t shake the feeling she wanted something, something that he wanted too now that the air was sparking with it. His eyes found the gold clasp of her necklace at the back of her neck and he imagined taking off that strand of pearls before taking her to bed.

Giving himself a little shake, he pulled back and reminded himself of something else he’d learned from Adam. That was that he needed to not be so careless, especially with Hunnigan. “ _That young woman is going places_ ,” he heard Adam telling him, “ _And she doesn’t need or want you hitting on her. Remember that, Leon._ ”

It had been an effective reminder that they were co-workers, even if they were often on different continents, and despite his flirty quip at the end of the Graham rescue, he had come to realize just how right Adam’s read of ‘that young woman’ had been. Hunnigan was the best support he’d ever had in his work, bar none, and every day since she’d made director, he had to admit just how much he’d come to depend on her and, selfishly, how much he missed having her just a quick dial away.

But she had earned her post, several times over in Leon’s opinion, and that respect was back in his gaze as he eased in beside her. She came to a stop in front of the balcony without touching it, folding her arms over her middle. He looked up and realized the feathery snow was still falling, even if it was doing a miserable job at sticking to anything.

“Are you cold?” he asked, frowning.

She turned to him and managed a small smile. “A little,” she admitted, “But the air is refreshing.”

Leon gave a soft chuckle and then, before he could over think things, he shrugged out of his suit coat. The air, momentarily still, cut sharply through his dress shirt all the same. Small wonder she was freezing.

She looked up to him again when she realized he was holding out his jacket to her, starting to protest, “Oh, you don’t have to--”

“Hunnigan. It’s cold. Humor me.”

And just like that, the slight drop in her shoulders was all he needed to see that she was deflating, backing down from an argument she really didn’t feel like having. He had the satisfaction of putting it on over her shoulders and then watching her pull it shut with her hands, settling into it with a little sigh while her gaze traveled over the garden.

Leon turned back out to the darkened landscaping and put his hand on the marble balcony. Cold, just like he expected. Well, maybe the stinging in his palms would keep him grounded. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, glancing at her.

She turned her head to look at him. “Did Helena put you up to this?”

Leon straightened up, frowning again. “Harper? No.” It took a few gears clicking before he asked, “Did she put _you_ up to something?”

That faint color rose in her cheeks again but she was doing better and better with masking things the longer they kept at this dance. “No, she just seemed a little anxious to be sure I’d be at the Christmas party.”

 _Women._ He could hear his old man saying it to him every time his mom did something that was a mystery to him. Most days Leon still felt like he was a few pieces short of solving a puzzle but even before Hunnigan named his partner, it had all clicked pretty readily into place. Helena had known seeing the two of them seeing each other like this would shake things up.

Not that he could say he minded--other than not caring for the idea that Hunnigan didn’t feel the same way about it that he did. “Sherry asked me not to dodge it this year,” he explained wryly. “Told me that Claire would be here and, well, it was a Raccoon City reunion. I told her sure.”

Now Hunnigan turned towards him, almost like she was flustered. “I didn’t mean to keep you from catching up with Ms. Redfield--”

“Hunnigan,” he cut her off, realizing how much he’d missed calling her by the more familiar name, “Have you never been set up before?”

He almost smiled at the indignation that crossed her features. Was she angry with him for such a lousy question or with their suspected perps? He couldn’t say but it definitely fueled her fire and sparked some of that steely resolve he’d gotten used to over the years. “Are you saying Agent Harper and Agent Birkin are trying to set us up?”

“I mean,” he gestured to the otherwise empty balcony, “I’d say they succeeded.” His expression became more serious as he focused on her, trying to decipher any sign she was telegraphing as he added, “I know I’d love to ask you for another dance.”

“But?” she asked, maybe a little sharply.

“Well, I don’t know how you’d feel about it,” he pointed out, he thought pretty reasonably. She looked away and he figured that tell meant she wasn’t as sure about it as he was. Not that he could fault her. Being a young, female director of a federal agency, there’d be gossip if she spent more than a few dances with one of her agents out on the dance floor.

Leon found himself wondering why she had showed up without a date and then he couldn’t helping teasing gently, “Why isn’t there a Mr. Hunnigan here with you to fill up your dance card?”

He didn’t like the flash of sadness--or was it disappointment?--that crossed those hazel eyes as she looked up at him. “Do I need a Mr. Hunnigan?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“No, but if you wanted one, I can’t imagine you’d be hard pressed to find one.”

She let out a sudden laugh, something he hadn’t heard from her before. It was surprising but just as troubling as the look. “You’d be surprised.”

His eyes swept over her face again. “Maybe I would be. So. Not even a maybe-Mr. Hunnigan to accompany you for the evening? A trying-on-for-size Mr. Hunnigan?”

She still looked irritated but only enough that he knew while he was getting under her skin, she was also amused by the way he kept framing it, by his sense of humor, something further confirmed by her counter question of, “Why would he be Mr. Hunnigan? That’s not how it usually goes.”

“Well, you’ll always be Hunnigan to me,” Leon answered, grinning, stepping a little closer as if sharing a secret. “So he’d have to catch up. And you’d still be Hunnigan.”

She was staring up at him with an expression that seemed a lot like wonder. Leon found himself amazed to consider she really didn’t see it the same way.

“I haven’t really made dating a priority,” she said at last, almost quietly enough that the sudden gust of wind that kicked up half-way through her words almost swept them away with the snowflakes.

Leon frowned thoughtfully. “Well, neither have I.” And that was commiseration, pure and simple. They both valued the same things. They’d been instrumental in forming the DSO with Adam. Now he was gone and there was just the two of them. No, he supposed it wasn’t that surprising that she hadn’t spent a lot of time between various bio-terror incidents and terror threats on dating. “Maybe that’s why they got the bright idea we’d make a good pair,” he added, tilting his head to watch her analyze that consideration.

Her eyes did flicker back and forth as she turned the idea over. He noted, with some amusement, she’d stopped blushing. “And what do you think?” she asked, looking up at him at last.

“Oh, no,” he said wryly, stepping towards her again with a grin, “I asked you first.”

“You did not!”

“Yes, I did,” he insisted, “I said I didn’t know what _you’d_ think. That that was my only hesitation. And you hesitated too.”

Her chin went up defiantly before she said, “Yes. I did.”

Well, at least they weren’t lying to each other. Like the moments when they were with other people that she fell back on his title, it stung a little but he understood it. That was why he said gently, “Hunnigan, you don’t have to explain.”

“What if something happened to you?”

Well, _that_ wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He must have looked shocked too because she took her opening.

“Leon, the work you do, it’s incredibly dangerous. I only feel slightly relieved knowing that you agreed to work with Agent Harper since Lanshiang. Before,” she bit her lip and despite the winter air, he felt like lightning had just shot through him, “I mean, after Holigrad, I kept thinking you might not come back.”

“You were worried about me?” he asked, stuck on the obvious point.

“Yes!” she answered, a little bit louder with exasperation, although with the wind carrying away and the general noise from the party, he doubted anyone was eavesdropping. Hunnigan seemed unaware of anything else as she let go of his coat long enough to jab a finger at his chest. “ _You_ stayed without anyone there to help you. After I explicitly told you US forces and the CIA were already pulling out.”

“There were BOWs!”

“Don’t you think I knew that?” Her hand had gone back to his suit jacket and she tugged it tighter around her.

 _Hell,_ said an inner voice as his eyes swept over her hand and his awareness of her went up several more notches.

Hunnigan was either oblivious or too caught up in her moment of confession to notice. “You could have died! You could have died the first time I met you or any of the missions since. It keeps getting more dangerous and with what we’re up against--”

He knew instinctively she meant the Family.

“--I can’t just go falling for you again.”

That last word cracked him upside the head like a well-timed left hook. “Again?” he repeated dumbly.

The color drained out of her face so fast that Leon actually felt a jolt of concern that she was going to faint. Maybe that was why he grabbed her. Maybe that was why she put her hand on his chest, to steady herself. All he knew was that it took not even a second for him to use the ready-made excuse to pull her into his arms and she didn’t pull away from him.

“Leon--” was about all she managed before he closed the distance the rest of the way so he was kissing her. Whatever she was going to say became a noise of surprise that turned into a longing sigh, sending another flash of heat through him all over again.

He turned into the kiss slightly, putting his back to the ballroom, on some instinct to shield her from the world they were trying to forget. She seemed to have already forgotten it by the way she was grabbing at him, the hand on his chest having slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him in as her mouth opened under his. What had been an impulsive kiss to begin with suddenly was a lot hotter and hungrier than even he was expecting, drawing a moan out of him when her tongue teased over his.

That seemed to bring her back to herself and while she jumped back with a startled, “Oh my god,” she still was clinging to him, still looked like she was dizzy and spinning as she tried to collect herself.

It took him a few breaths before he could manage to say, “Hunnigan--” but of course that was when he heard a too deliberate cough from behind him.

The way she looked up at him made him want to put his arms around her again, like she needed him to protect her against whoever had come to break things up. Instead, he breathed deeply and mouthed, “You OK?” to which she rallied and nodded, stepping back from him with her professional mask back in place as he turned around to see--

Helena, looking at them carefully. It was strange, Leon thought as he tried to read her expression. There wasn’t much gloating there although he was absolutely certain now that his partner had been the one driving this little set up. She didn’t look ‘just business’ either; there was too much anger in her eyes. That could only mean one thing.

“There’s a call for you, Director,” she said clearly, signally that it would be business interrupting them, but something that was also personal, something that probably would have its claws in all three of them.

Leon rallied too, certain he was still the more obvious of the two of them as Hunnigan said, “Thank you, Agent Harper. Lead the way.”

The director didn’t take off his jacket and Leon didn’t ask for it. Helena led them by way of a side corridor to a private room to take the phone call. She looked more at the ground than at either of them as Hunnigan took the call about one of their agents, dead, likely from another Family assassin. The mood in the room was practically weighing on them.

Hunnigan was wrapping up the call when there was a knock on the door. Helena opened it to let Sherry in. Leon met her gaze long enough to mouth, ‘Claire?’ to which the younger woman made a kind of gesture to suggest their friend was fine, just not joining them.

All three agents turned back to the Director as she set the phone in its cradle. Her hands were folded in her lap but his jacket was still draped over her shoulders as she said plainly, “Agent Silver is dead.”

There was a moment of silence, of shared, grim understanding.

Hunnigan stood up and when she moved to Leon, he understood instinctively, taking the jacket off her shoulders and putting it back on, grateful that Sherry and Helena still seemed fixated on their leader who had squared her shoulders and set her jaw with a look that told them they shouldn’t expect too much from this holiday season.

That was alright, Leon thought, unable to stop himself from looking from Hunnigan’s mouth to her steely gaze as she debriefed the three of them. He knew better than to wait for Christmas when it came to wishing.


	2. Chapter 2

Helena Harper had insisted on driving her home. Ingrid could admit to herself that she appreciated the company and being in the passenger seat instead of alone in the back of the usual chauffeured car that took her to and from important events.

She hadn’t had a car in long time, well before becoming director. “ _Don’t bother_ ,” Adam Benford had told her, fresh into his presidency but already settling into so easily, like it was all old hat. “ _I’ll make sure you’ll get where you’re needed._ ”

And he had. What was originally a perk of working for FOS had become something more like a security necessity with her promotion to director.

Her hand went absently to the strand of pearls she was wearing. They were a gift from her mother, not her usual style, but the kind of timeless elegance that she could appreciate enough to wear once she’d found an occasion for them. She was a lot more fond of the matching earrings, a set she had worn a time or two separate from the necklace.

She knew why she was thinking of jewelry right now as Helena drove carefully, easily through the holiday crowding of DC’s streets. It was something she had control over, something she could take off and put on, something that was a part of the image she crafted every day for work while still separate, distinct from her sense of self.

What had happened out there on the balcony in the few minutes she had let down her guard with Leon was something she couldn’t take off and hide in a box, tempting as the thought was.

It was bad enough knowing that Helena not only knew about the kiss but, according to Leon, had probably engineered it. Well, ‘set them up’ was how Agent Kennedy had put it. She often found herself thinking of him as Agent Kennedy when she was proud of him or angry with him. It wasn’t fair to be angry with him right now but at least she could admit she was.

She could still see him watching her, intense and intent, ready to catch her the moment she had gone weak at the knees. And oh, she had gone weak but not before giving him a shock of his own apparently.

She couldn’t keep it all in, no matter how hard she tried to shut the memory off. Ingrid bit her lip as she remembered the kiss just so she wouldn’t run her hand over the mouth. With her luck, it was just as big a tell as if she had but Helena’s whole attention seemed to be on the road.

That wasn’t surprising to her; Agent Harper had come to them from the Secret Service. She not only knew how to drive, she knew how to keep someone she was with safe, which seemed to be the main reason she had become the director’s shadow after delivering news of the call.

She hadn’t expressed anything else yet besides simmering, pensive anger. That was also not surprising, considering that Helena’s reasons to hate the Family were as personal as any of theirs. She had not only lost her sister to Simmon’s criminal fraternity, she had nearly lost her job and her freedom as well. Leon and Helena had worked together to expose the cover up. Ingrid had moved quickly after her reinstatement to the USSS to get her transferred to the DSO. She had partnered the two off and been very satisfied with the result.

Focusing on Helena and the Family and the death of Agent Silver was at least enough to push Leon to the back-burner for now. She let her analytical mind turn everything over, remembering how Helena had first gotten on her radar, her first attempts to get her recruited after her washout at the CIA, and how she had ended up at the USSS before Ingrid made Director and had the authority to offer her the job.

Now as she looked at the woman driving her back to her condominium, she wondered if Agent Harper was actually happy with the DSO. Certainly, she was always enthusiastic when it came to investigating and stopping bio-terrorism, even more so when it suited her personal goal of bringing the Family down. And Ingrid could admit she selfishly fed that. Simmons had gotten too close to the presidency. He’d killed Adam Benford, even if only by manipulating the circumstances that forced Leon to pull the trigger. Now, she and the DSO had good reason to fear the vice president was part of the secret order’s ranks. Enough was enough.

They got to back to her place about when she had expected, accounting for snow and traffic and leaving the Christmas party much earlier than intended. Ingrid had been looking forward to it with all the enthusiasm of all her usual chores. It was a night to put in an appearance, to be the new DSO Director, for certain small talk and certain affirmations, maybe some light appetizers and one glass of champagne--not dancing with Leon Kennedy.

And there she was, back to remembering what had actually happened tonight. She keyed codes and waved through the necessary bio-metric scanners to get them inside her house. Helena had only waited for the door to open before going past her, still in full Secret Service mode as she cleared each room, one by one.

Obliging her, Ingrid took off her heels then her pearls while standing in the foyer. Keeping the jewelry in her left hand, she went to the end of the foyer where Helena met her to offer the solemn, “All clear.”

“Thank you, Agent Harper.”

The professional demeanor broke a little as the other woman shifted her weight. She was only a little older than Ingrid had been herself when she started in this line of work. Of course, Helena had been at it longer, and as a field agent to boot. Ingrid had come straight out of college and some theoretical jobs into her first intelligence job with the FOS. That group had eventually merged with the DSO and the rest was history.

Trying not to sigh but dreading opening Pandora’s box, she asked, “Is there something else I can help you with, Helena?” Offering her name as a personal touch, a reminder of their collegiate friendship, even if they weren’t especially close.

Not that Ingrid could say she was close with anyone. She suppressed a wince at the thought.

If Helena suspected her mood, she didn’t show it on her face. She simply said, miserably and sincerely, “I’m sorry about tonight.”

Figuring there was no point lying about it if she was going to be so blunt about it, Ingrid let go of her sigh. “It’s never easy to be the bearer of bad news,” she said, seeing if that out would work.

Apparently not. Helena fixed her with one of those direct looks that must have chaffed so many of her superiors before but Ingrid just found rather par for the course. The woman was cut from the same cloth as Leon. That was why she had wanted her for the DSO for all these years.

“You know when I hired in, I thought you were,” she seemed to realize she was about to go too far, managing to catch herself with a slight cough. She started over and said, “I thought you and Leon were together.”

She closed her eyes briefly and breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth. It was what she’d expected and Helena had managed to say it more politely than originally intended. “No,” Ingrid said, sounding passably firm without coming off as angry, at least to her ears. “No, I’ve know Agent Kennedy almost ten years but we’ve never been close like that.”

“Until tonight.”

Ingrid blanched but even though Helena startled a little, she didn’t dive to catch her, which she supposed she appreciated in this instance. Ingrid locked her knees and squared her shoulders, making herself look the other woman in the eye. “So you were setting us up.”

She shrugged and if Ingrid thought that was a poor apology, she was even less impressed with the words that followed: “I told Sherry I had a hunch.”

Well, the good news was she seemed to be past blushing. Even as she thought about Leon leading her in a more-than-passable waltz over the ballroom floor, him draping his jacket over her shoulders, or his exclamation of surprise before he decided on moving in for that kiss. All Ingrid did as it played over in her mind’s eye like a fast-forwarded clip was find another sigh.

Helena at least looked a little more contrite at that. “I didn’t actually know what would happen if he showed up. And I certainly wouldn’t have interrupted you if--”

“If it wasn’t for the job.” She wished the words didn’t taste so bitter in her mouth. Still, she gave a gracious wave of her emptied hand and said, “I know.”

Helena realized at this point that the director was holding her necklace and earrings in her other hand. “I should go. Do you mind if I watch your house? To make sure trouble didn’t follow Silver home.”

Her eyes flickered to the window, gazing across the street at the usual spot where security would sit when they were worried about her and felt she merited special watch. It was going to be a cold night and Helena was still in her formal wear.

“Would you rather take the couch?” she found herself offering instead.

Again, there was the slight startle to her frame but to her credit, Helena regrouped quickly enough with a nod. Then the corner of her mouth quirked up. “You wouldn’t happen to have some spare clothes I could borrow, would you?”

Ingrid nodded, moving towards the bedroom again. The earrings went in the jewelry box on the top of her dresser. The necklace went in the one in the top most drawer, tucked in one corner beside her underwear and socks.

She returned to the living room once she had changed, carrying for Helena a pair of navy sweatpants, a gray t-shirt, and a zipper fleece. She noticed that the first thing the agent looked at was her hair which was down. She tried not to pull at it self-consciously like she had done as a child. She at least felt comfortable in her pajama set with its warm cotton, full pant legs and long sleeved shirt.

Helena took the offered clothes and retreated to the bathroom. When she came back, her side arm was holstered on her hip. Ingrid didn’t even bat an eye.

“Should I make you something?” she asked, reminding herself to be a good hostess, something she hadn’t practiced lately. “Some tea or coffee or I could see what’s in the fridge?”

“No, I’m good,” the agent assured her, dropping down in the corner of the couch.

Not sure what else to do, Ingrid sat in the opposite spot. Helena’s gaze followed her all the way down, even as she settled to rest her head against her hand.

Not wanting to delay or dither, Ingrid decided to come right to the point. “I met Leon when I was twenty-four. First as his field operations support, by video, then when he came back from his mission. I suppose I had, ah,” she breathed and managed evenly enough, “A crush on him, back then. But then I was told I would be his regular support.”

“And that was a line you didn’t want to cross.”

A faint smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she admitted, maybe for the first time, “Well, I knew it was a line I _shouldn’t_ cross.”

That was when Helena’s expression broke into a grin. The practiced casual posture became more genuine as the young agent relaxed into the couch. “You love the job.”

This olive branch of understanding actually meant quite a lot to Ingrid. It was her turn to sink back against the couch although her posture was nowhere near as open as Helena’s. “Yes, I love my work.”

“And you’re damn good at it. That’s not kissing up,” she added seriously. “Even if I didn’t know how much Leon respects you, I’ve seen enough for myself to know you’re absolutely where you belong.”

“Well, thank you,” she said softly and they fell into shared silence for a moment after that. “Leon and I were both very close to President Benford, although it was different for him than it was for me. Adam was more of… a mentor, for me. He was Leon’s friend.”

Despite a grim look, Helena nodded, silently inviting her to go on.

“I don’t know how hard it’s been on him, exactly, losing Adam along with everything else.” _Ada Wong_. The file on her was even thinner than it was on Simmons’ family and that was saying something. “But I was glad when you took our offer to join the DSO and I was glad he didn’t push back on taking a partner. Mostly, he’s worked alone.”

“I can’t say I’m shocked.” Helena ran one of her palms over her knee, her expression suggesting she was back in the moments of the Global Terror Attack a few months ago. “The more I see of what the DSO sees, the more I understand risking as few agents as we can on any given op.”

“But we need to prepare agents for what they’ll encounter and Leon is an invaluable resource,” she said, feeling like she had stepped back into her previous role, making her arguments to the then-director and President Benford for why Leon needed to take on a partner to mentor.

The corner of Helena’s mouth quirked up. “Did you try to set him up before me?” she asked, just curiosity, no obvious hostility at the thought.

Ingrid tilted her head slightly in reaction to the turn of the phrase but answered steadily, “I suggested it to Adam. He thought it was a bad idea. Without Adam on my side, I never brought it up with Leon. He had a bad experience before I joined FOS. He very occasionally cooperated with local LEOs but it was never long-term. Until Tall Oaks, I just didn’t see how it could be done.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Helena said wryly but she suspected despite the careful tone that the young agent actually was. She still waved a hand to add to the dismissal before continuing, “But I think Leon thinks you’re expecting him to go out to pasture. That you brought me on as his replacement.”

“I did.”

The answer shocked Helena enough that she sat up. Before she could say anything, it was Ingrid’s turn to lift a hand, to cut her off. “Agent Kennedy is an excellent agent, still capable of difficult, demanding field work. But that won’t always be true.” _If he even lives as long as that._

Watching Helena’s expression, she wondered if the part that wasn’t said outloud was understood all the same. “You know, you do that,” she said instead, gesturing as she repeated, “‘Agent Kennedy’, like we’re talking about someone else.”

“I have to remember to think of him like that,” Ingrid admitted. “Especially now that I’m the director of DSO. He can take his orders directly from the president but I’m also responsible for his welfare.”

“And you didn’t want him to keep going into the field alone.”

“No, I didn’t.”

They sat in silence for another moment after that, Helena chewing on the thought. While Ingrid’s mind went to a certain analytical bent more suited to a life at a computer, the field agents she worked with regularly showed the keenness of their own minds, especially where it was life or death for them to connect the dots.

When Helena seemed to have situated these new pieces of information enough to keep moving forward, she asked, “What next?”

Taking a breath, she rallied. “We make sure I’m not under threat.” Something that was always a possibility as the Family seemed hellbent on killing off anyone investigating them that got too close. “And then I’ll have to send someone to pick up where Agent Silver left off.” She couldn’t just give up. That was what Simmons’ cohort wanted.

Helena nodded, before adding, almost gently, “Anything else?”

She dared a smile, a very small one, and hoped it wasn’t too sad. “The rest will have to wait.”

For a moment, Helena opened her mouth, maybe to challenge that before she closed it and settled instead on a nod. Then after a moment’s thought, she said, “You can stay up with me as long as you want. I’ll probably call in a relief, for the outside watch.”

“I understand.” On a rare impulse, Ingrid leaned across the couch and touched Helena’s hand, simply saying, “Thank you.”

With the easy practice of an older sister, Helena flipped her hand under hers and gave it a slight squeeze. Ingrid thought about Deborah Harper, barely an adult, her whole life lost because of Simmons. She knew that hurt couldn’t be anywhere close to healed for Helena but the young agent had met all the necessary check marks to be cleared for field work; she had to be working through the grief in her own way.

And Ingrid didn’t want to give her up. She needed Helena and every other resource at her disposal if she was going to have any hope of bringing the Family down.

She got up and the two women exchanged quiet goodnights. Ingrid had to admit she felt safer with Helena sleeping in her living room then being home alone tonight.

But as she climbed into bed, she could think of another protector she would have been even more grateful for, one she hadn’t dreamed of in years--but she knew she’d be dreaming about him tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

If it hadn’t been for Claire, Leon probably would have crawled out of his skin having to endure the rest of the office party after the wrench that had been thrown into his evening. Without asking, Claire had looked across the four DSO agents with their grim expressions, rallied and gently pulled Sherry into a conversation while Hunnigan had explained briefly, quietly, who she needed to talk with before she could go home.

“I’ll drive you,” Helena had said without hesitating and while each of them had exchanged glances, they all knew they were in agreement even before Ingrid had nodded her head.

Leon half got the evening he would have preferred when he found out there was meal service off a very limited menu. Claire had encouraged them to eat and joined in, deciding to enjoy a free steak dinner while she could.

Sherry had perked up eventually. Leon couldn’t say that he was _perky_ , then or ever, but he had slowly started to relax, giving Claire grateful looks that she acknowledged with her own expressive replies. Luckily, Sherry didn’t seem to care about the non-verbal communication going on around her. She and Claire had plenty to catch up on.

Leon wished he could give it all more than half an ear. A lot had happened to both of them--and to him, too, for that matter, but he was minding what was still classified, at least for conversation held in the ballroom. He caught the broad strokes and he wasn’t too proud to say that he was glad Derek Simmons was dead. It hadn’t been a pleasant death either and while he usually didn’t give much thought to what came after, he sincerely hoped the man was in hell.

Claire filled them in about TerraSave. The most Leon spoke up was during their shared recollection of the Harvardville incident. They only crossed paths occasionally after Raccoon City and that had certainly been one of the more dangerous moments. There had been another a few years back. In some ways, Claire was still recovering from that capture and a betrayal from within her own organization. Leon made a few mental bookmarks about things to follow up with her later, when they weren’t in earshot of anyone else.

Eventually Sherry’s energy flagged. Leon offered to drive her home and get Claire back to her hotel. “Just get a good night’s sleep,” was his parting advice to the younger agent and despite being tired, she managed to give him a smile.

On the ride to the hotel, Leon’s phone went off. Just a text notification so he assumed it was Helena. “Would you check that?” he asked Claire, eyeing another driver suspiciously and letting out a huff when the moron barreled through the intersection, despite the slick roads and yellow light.

Claire opened up his phone and read out, “Staying with DH. Relief shift?”

Leon glanced at her, wondering if he heard that right. Helena was going to stay with Hunnigan? Was this death that dangerous to the DSO director? His brow furrowed and his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as he glared at the road.

Claire waited until they cleared the next intersection to ask, “Did you want me to text something back.”

“Yeah. Can you send, ‘Sure, when?’” He looked over as she was typing and added a heartfelt, “Thanks.”

“So Ingrid finally set you up with a partner, huh,” she remarked, returning the phone to the cupholder with the screen visible to him.

“First of all, it’s a little strange to hear you call my director by her first name,” he said dryly. He glanced at his mirrors, trying to buy a little extra time for his response. “And as far as Harper, we became a team in unfortunate circumstances--but she’s got potential and she’d be wasted at the USSS as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s a pretty big compliment. So you like working with her?”

“I do. She’s a little rough but no worse than I was at that age.” He gave her a smirk which was nice to see mirrored back by her. “Seriously, when did you get on first name terms with Hunnigan?”

“After Harvardville. It made sense to stay in touch. You still call her Hunnigan, huh?”

He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. “Only when I’m clear not to use ‘Director’ or ‘ma’am’.”

She didn’t even blink, just asked, still smiling, “Is this the first time Helena has tried to set you two up?”

“Claire,” Leon started but when she put her hands up in the universal sign for surrender, even though she didn’t look very contrite, he let it go with a sigh. “Did you learn your interrogation technique from your brother or have you always been this determined when you’ve got a question you want answered?”

Her smile grew to a full, healthy grin. It was probably the best one she’d managed this evening. “It’s a bit of both,” she told him, and then pointed out the entrance for the hotel drop off.

He threw it in park and let the car idle, turning to look at her. She had on a dressy jacket that went with her outfit, something that showed some thought without full on preoccupation for what she was wearing. She met his gaze easily and openly. “We’ve all been worried about you, Leon.”

That surprised him a bit. “Me?”

“Because of Adam.”

On the one hand, it was kind of a relief to have that narrowed down to such a straightforward thing. On the other, it still left him with the thought of Sherry, Claire, Helena and even Hunnigan worrying together over him.

“I’m fine. As much as I can be,” he amended, feeling he owed Claire more than a brush off answer. She mattered more to him than that. “I was lucky to be able to work with a good man I called my friend. I’m glad I stopped him before he hurt Helena or anyone else. He wouldn’t have wanted that.”

Claire nodded. With her, it didn’t feel like lip service. He knew that she knew what he meant. “It never gets easier,” she said softly.

“You can say that again,” he agreed.

After a moment of silence, they got out by mutual decision. Claire came around to him to hug him and they held on for a moment before pulling back, Claire holding his arms as she smiled at him. “I know life gets busy but if you need anything, call me.”

“I will.”

She gave his arms one last squeeze and stepped away. She almost seemed like her old self again giving him a wink with her wave goodbye but he could tell this last misdaventure, the one with Barry Burton’s daughter, had really put her through the wringer. He was going to have to thank Sherry for suggesting they all get together tonight, even if it hadn’t gone exactly according to plan.

Sighing, he eased out of the hotel lot and back into traffic. His phone rang and he answered it without looking. “Leon.”

“Agent Kennedy?” came the nervous voice.

He suppressed a sigh. Usually the field support types only called if something big was happening and it wasn’t as if he was with Helena to motion for her to take tha call instead. “Go ahead, John.”

“Agent Harper’s phone went dark fifteen minutes ago.”

He didn’t even hear the rest of what the support tech said. The engine revved and he shot through traffic, dodging and weaving, the blare of horns protesting him and tires squealing equally meaningless to his ears. He took a hard turn on the fastest route to Director Hunnigan’s home, praying he was just overreacting.


	4. Chapter 4

Ingrid Hunnigan woke up on a cold floor, feeling like she was being rocked gently. It was hard initially to explain the sensation however because whatever her assailant had drugged her with was still in her system, making her groggy and uncertain.

She started to push herself up and stopped. Her head swam and she had to breathe through it. The floor was still cold under hands and she definitely felt like she was swaying, like she might have in a hammock. She became more sure of that fact the longer she held herself still.

Eventually, the dizziness subsided and Ingrid was fully sitting up. Her legs were tucked underneath her and her arms came around her middle. The air was cool, not as cold as the floor or the air outside, she was sure. The room was almost completely bare. A dark reflective wall struck her as some kind of tinted glass. The low fluorescent lighting revealed no furniture and only one exit, a door that seemed set in the wall itself, no handle or handhold, just a seam indicating where it fit in the gray metal.

A cell, she decided. Some place she could be kept and, judging by the window, observed. She was still in her pajamas, her hair loose, and without her glasses. She didn’t relish the prospect of having to determine danger from afar more on sound than sight but the more she got her bearings, the more determined she became.

Agent Silver must have gotten very close for the Family to decide they had to kill him. After Simmons, their premium on a low profile had gone up substantially--but they wouldn’t let their enemies get the upper hand again. That was why the group had stepped it up with a more obvious leash on the new president. Where Simmons had though that he could control Adam Benford from the shadows, the family now had their pawn standing right behind the seat of American executive power, a vice president-shaped shadow.

 _Poetry is not your strong suit_ , came a thought that reminded her of her father.

She fought off a laugh that might have led to hysteria or just plain old-fashioned tears. What her father had expected for her, she couldn’t say for certain but she knew the last ten years of her life had been an exercise in disappointing her mother. “ _When are you going to find someone nice, settled down? You don’t want to have children in your forties!_ ”

At eighteen, she had watched the news reports of the incineration of Raccoon City, slowly becoming even more aware of all the terror and dangers that didn’t end up as a clip on the nighttime news. Since then, Ingrid had only gotten less certain about having children at all.

“Enough.” She said it aloud to test the authority of her own voice. It sounded convincing enough to her and that gave her the courage to try standing up. Whoever had dropped her in this room had left her almost centered on the floor. She wasn’t interested in crawling over to a wall for supported assistance so that just meant getting her feet under her carefully before attempting to stand.

Barefoot. She added that to her list of problems, although the room she was in right now seemed clean enough and not too dangerous. It was just cold but she was starting to get used to that. Another smaller headrush accompanied her getting fully to her feet. She stood still and breathed through it, letting her eyes sweep the room as much as they could where she stood before she finally turned to take the rest of it in.

With only artificial light and nothing to keep time with, Ingrid set about methodically testing all avenues of escape. She started with the most obvious, the seam where the door clearly fit, but unsurprisingly she didn’t see a way to manipulate it just from there.

She ran her hand over the walls, everywhere that she could reach, but she didn’t activate any panels or find any keypads or similar to prompt the door to open. Again, it didn’t surprise her, it just seemed necessary to try.

The next puzzle was the window. She felt her way along it and then explored its seems. Mindful of the fact that she hadn’t trained to be a fighter, she started her test of the shaded glass’s strength first with a rap of her knuckles, then a bang of her fist, listening to the sound, watching to see if it gave at all under her small show of force.

It didn’t look good.

Next, she turned to try a kick. She was certain that her bared feet wouldn’t seem that impressive and, if she succeeded, she feared she might somehow injure herself in the process but she figured that was a risk she was going to need to take. Besides, between her feet and her hands, she felt she would be more useful with both hands, provided any room attached to this one had a computer.

The kick only went a little better than the balled fist. She did hit it with her heel adequately enough to avoid injury and to see a satisfying wobble in the glass. Small but enough to give her hope.

She didn’t kick again right away. No, she returned to the middle of the room and sat down cross-legged, resting her hands on her knees. She was facing the glass but the door was still visible from her spot.

No way to be certain of the passing of time. One possible exit that would require more effort, more desperation, more risk if there was any chance of that escape panning out. How long could she last? Was it worse if whoever put her came back to get her?

Her analytical mind pretended this was all an exercise for someone else. She was back at her old FOS station, running the scenario for some agent in the field, someone who actually knew how to do this as their job.

Except she was barefoot, without her glasses, and she knew her own strength. That made it harder to use that escape to push through her work.

So she rationalized and started again. A field agent at a disadvantage. It happened but she still needed to get her agent out. What was an acceptable risk? How long should she wait?

The pose was a meditative one she had used plenty of times in yoga. She hadn’t seen much need for strength training and firearms, well, she maintained enough to pass all the certifications required for her job. But the practice had been for herself, for her health and happiness and to let go enough to find her center.

Ingrid was having a very hard time getting centered right now, even as she breathed like she had hundreds of times during her practice.

She closed her eyes. She picked a number and began to count. If nothing happened before then, she’d try her way out again, this time without holding back. It had to work. She had no idea what she would do if it didn’t.

She breathed deeply again and continued to count.

* * *

Leon was the first person on the scene but that wasn’t true for long. John had called in the cavalry, which was good, because not only had Helena’s phone been destroyed, the DSO agent herself had taken some damage, although luckily not as total or permanent.

“Sonofabitch,” she swore in a breath as the EMTs raised the wheeled stretcher to handhold height. 

Leon felt a pang of regret. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive with you?”

“Yeah. Birkin’s on her way. You go get our director.” She winced again at her injuries and groaned, “I’m sorry I can’t give you more.”

He waved the apology off and said, “I’ve got it, Helena.” A promise. They didn’t bother with anything more for farewells than a nod.

Much as he didn’t want to Leon walked back into the house and popped the video screen on his smartphone. “John.”

“OK, here’s what we know…” The kid took off at full-tilt, summarizing with only a little bit of uncertainty the events as relayed by Director Hunnigan’s extensive, state-of-the-art security. Leon walked through her condominium as John timelined it. He tried not to get distracted by the handful of hints of Hunnigan’s private life. Still, it was harder than he cared to admit to keep his attention on blood splatters and broken glass as he moved through the space.

At the end of the timeline, Leon only prompted the kid with a simple word: “Leads?”

He faltered again. Leon forced himself to breathe deeply through the flash of anger he felt. It was misplaced, he knew that, but he wished right now he had a support tech he could completely trust. _You have no one to blame for that but yourself_ , a voice that sounded like Hunnigan’s admonished him. _If you’d have been working with him all along, you’d have a better idea of his capabilities now._

It was what Hunnigan wanted. She’d asked him, the last time he was in her office, to give John a chance. Everyone started somewhere. The kid also had to have potential if she selected him. Leon tried to keep that in mind.

There was a lead although it felt very thin. Leon turned over the scene to the FBI agents who touched base with him briefly and promised they get answers for him as quickly as they could. It felt like he didn’t even breathe until he got back into his car and started driving again.

John had sent a map to his phone. Leon followed the route to a shipyard. The standard _federal agent_ and a badge had gotten him through the security check point. He had parked, getting out to clear the warehouse first. If she wasn’t there, then it meant having to move onto the ship.

He really hoped this wasn’t going to end up on the ship.

Leon balance being thorough against his impulse to rush. He cleared the entrance and began his sweep of warehouse. The large shipping containers felt unfortunately familiar, each set just so he had new alleys to clear, new reasons to slow down and move carefully if he didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of a fist or a gun or a BOW.

Nothing. It felt like a waste but there was a sliver of relief when he let out the breath he had been holding. He stood still and forced himself to listen. Plenty of times when doing only that had been the difference between life and death.

The silence made him realize he missed Harper. Even in this moment, even if all they had been doing was breathing and exchanging a look, maybe signaling their next moves if they were trying to remain inconspicuous--she wasn’t here.

Leon drew himself up and moved out of the warehouse.

Helena was on her way to the emergency room for a laundry list of injuries sustained while trying to protect Director Hunnigan. If he’d have know that the death of Silver had been a warning that Hunnigan was next, he’d have never let his partner and his director go off alone.

 _I should have been there_.

No point in playing what if games. He took drew in another breath and let it go, forcing himself to count evenly as he moved along the wall of the warehouse towards the dock.

The ship was there alright. The _Coventina_. John had warned him that it was the only one that seemed off. Oh, the ownership and registration matched the warehouse but something wasn’t _right_ according to his rookie support. Leon hadn’t learned if it was good to trust John’s instincts but second guessing him now would just be a different waste of time.

Leon looked around one last time and then found the ramp, still extended from the ship to the dock. A heavy chain swayed gently off the side of the boat. Anchored. It sure looked like this boat wasn’t going anywhere.

Yeah, right.

If this was a trap, he was walking right into it. But what choice did he have? If they had Hunnigan… none. With slow, careful steps, Leon Kennedy boarded the _Coventina_.


	5. Chapter 5

She couldn’t say how long she spent staring at her reflection in the plexiglass like wall. It seemed incredibly unlikely that she would be able to kick her way through it but so far, she hadn’t thought of any other solution. The inset door definitely wasn’t an option and she doubted that even a second pass at the room would reveal a pannel or some way to override the security keeping her in here.

At this point, Ingrid was testing her own patience, running through calculations and scenarios that might not even apply here. She had to consider every option and one of those options included that she might not escape.

She couldn’t say that she had ever deeply considered her own mortality. Field work was never her goal and while supporting federal agents would always include certain risks, she had been more preoccupied with losing her job or being arrested for breaking the law. When she had faked Leon and Helena’s deaths, if Simmons had triumphed, she was already tied to the two of them. Of course, she hadn’t considered at the time that Simmons would then want her dead too; it was easy enough to have her sent to jail and frankly, just as effective.

Why was she still alive right now? She kept coming back to the fact that she was the director of the DSO. The Family was about maintaining a certain status quo, one where they held power and the world continued to work the way that they wanted it. She sincerely doubted, even with Simmons’ death, that their new vision of the future didn’t include a strong United States of America. Why install one of their members even closer to the office of the president if they didn’t?

So she had to assume that it was the office she held. It would certainly explain why she wasn’t targeted before taking it, before directing DSO resources to hunting leads on the Family. That further meant she was alive because she had something her captors wanted. Or, if not her captors directly, whoever was calling the shots.

DSO had made plenty of enemies in their time. She was the new face of the organization, even if she didn’t generally make a big splash. She pushed forward on Adam’s vision of a direct action agency but she had also worked towards her own vision of better inter-agency cooperation, especially in relying on the FBI at home. She didn’t need to waste time or resources on something local law enforcement could handle once any bio-weapon concerns were under control.

She considered all of this until her reflection disappeared and the gray plexiglass became translucent, revealing an observation room. She saw monitors, some showing different camera angles of herself in this room, others displaying other parts of the ship.

Her attention eventually centered on the blond-haired young woman standing in a crisp white pant suit. Everything about her was cold and stunning, right down to her smile.

“Director Hunnigan.” Her voice had a light Southern accent, all old money and upper crust. Her bright blue eyes glittered in the light as she continued, her voice barely echoing from the high quality speakers, “So nice to meet you. I’m Danica Simmons, the head of the Family.”

She cast about to place the name but recalled nothing from their on-going file that gave her any reason to believe the woman in front of her just at her word. She could be anyone. She barely looked old enough to be an adult--though after getting to know Sherry Birkin, Ingrid thought she was smarter than falling into that figurative trap.

The lack of response from her frowning captive seemed to be enough to move Danica to laugh, a sound as polite and polished as it should be but still bitterly cold. “You seem surprised.”

“I didn’t think I rated for a meeting with the head of the Family,” Ingrid said at last.

“Well, you are the head of the DSO and killing your agents hasn’t scared you off.”

“No,” she answered, finding a chilly tone of her own, “It hasn’t.”

This time Danica smiled, not that it went beyond her a taut pull of her lips. “You see, I knew that we should meet. That we should talk. You’re relentless and I can almost respect that. But your agents keep stepping in my business and I’m tired of cleaning up the mess.”

Ingrid remained silent. It wasn’t her nature to use humor to diffuse situations like this. Leon had a tendency to quip and she’d learned to quip back when it came from him. Otherwise she was more analytical than emotional, certainly more practical than intuitive. Whether this woman was who she said she was or not, the fact was that Ingrid had been kidnapped. She was alone, without her resources, and she was scared. Talking through that fear, even under a false bravado, wasn’t going to get her out.

Her enemy seemed intrigued by this second silence, letting it play out much longer before she said, “You’re a good listener. I have to respect that too. Hopefully, you won’t make me repeat myself.”

She didn’t even let herself nod.

This time Danica’s laugh was more like a snort. It was surprisingly unpretty for the otherwise polished woman but she regained her composure quickly enough. “Dear Uncle Derek was a bastard. His obsession with that mercenary damn near ruined everything. And what a megalomaniac! He couldn’t just bump Adam Benford off quietly, it had to be under the guise of a bio-terror attack.”

“So,” the supposed head of the Family continued, “He lost sight of things. He wanted power for power’s sake. That helps _no one_. We have a responsibility--to keep the world in balance.”

Here, Ingrid was angry enough to interrupt and accuse, “To your own benefit.”

Her captor’s eyes seemed to light up with amusement. “Is that what bothers you so much? You think I’m like _him_? I’m not doing this for me, Director. I’m doing this for America. For the world.”

Ingrid couldn’t help it: she scoffed.

This at least brought Danica back to laughter again. “Seriously? This is what’s going to get under your skin? You’re so convinced of the morality of your side, that you’re the good guy and I’m the bad guy. You have no idea what’s out there. What my Family has kept in check for hundreds of years.”

“In secret,” she interjected, “From the shadows. Without public knowledge or oversight.”

“People are idiots,” Danica said coolly, dropping her head and giving Ingrid a predator’s stare. “The world doesn’t always know what’s best for them. But the American flock, bless them, they’re better sheep than most. And in the end, we’re not looking to overthrow the law. We all need _some_ society to function. What Adam Benford wanted to do, however, was treasonous. He would have crippled the US irrevocably in the global war on terror.”

This time Ingrid bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from speaking up. She didn’t realize she had balled her hands into fists in her lap.

Danica noticed and her smile returned as she straightened up. “I know how close you were to him. You and Leon Kennedy. I know that’s why you’re hell-bound on hunting us--but you need to be smarter than that.”

The woman in white stepped towards the glass and Ingrid felt herself straighten up, lifting her chin defiantly from where she sat to meet the other woman’s gaze.

“Even if you kill me, someone else is going to take my place. Remove the vice president, fine. We have other eyes and ears in Washington, not to mention everywhere else. You could live the rest of your life hunting us down, Director Hunnigan, and you will not wipe us out. I believe in my cause as fervently as you do yours and I am not the only one.”

Her hands, still balled, had just the slightest tremor in them. Still, her voice was even as she asked, “What do you want?”

“A truce. Stop trying to sniff us out. Leave us alone and focus on our foreign enemies. The worst thing Derek Simmons did to this Family was put all his eggs in this bio-terror basket. Almost twenty years of experiments and catastrophes and for what? Playing God has not worked out. No,” she gave a small, frozen smile, “We can accomplish our objectives without teetering on the edge of a knife.”

That admission did shock Ingrid enough that her angry shaking stopped. Her hands unclenched. This woman could be lying to her. She might have no connection to the Family or she might be an actress giving a very pretty speech. But someone, somewhere in the Family had really thought they could talk her into their side.

She had nothing in here, no weapons, no leverage. Of course her agency would try to rescue her but she had to be realistic about her odds. If _anything_ Danica had said was true, it was a lead where all other leads had run out.

Ingrid Hunnigan took a deep breath.

Maybe this was an opportunity she couldn’t afford to miss.

* * *

Every moment that Leon was aware of the floor rocking slightly under his feet with the water was a moment he would have gladly traded in for solid ground and two dozen BOWs aimed right at him. Ships, even at the height of luxury, were still at the mercy of the ocean and they didn’t feel solid. Give him hurtling through the air in a tin can any day; better to drop out of the sky then to be lost in all directions with no idea how to survive.

He pushed down his fear as he worked to clear the top deck. Not only was it empty and abandoned, it was almost uncomfortably pristine. The sheet metal had a dull gleam and some of the snowflakes from earlier in the night sat daintily on top of a few surfaces, not yet melted. The material and the design suggested wealth to Leon’s mind. It felt like often he ran into wealth of the other kind in his misadventures: decadently old, decay in neglect. This suggested more of the sterile high-tech wealth he saw from the corporate types, the ones who usually wanted to be on the forefront of the scientific discoveries that kept making more bio-weapons.

Just like the warehouse, he worked methodically, ignoring the chill that cut through his legs around his woolen winter coat. The rocking of the ship was at least more familiar now as he went into the cabin and found the lift to go below.

He liked this less, he decided, as he started working his way through the next section of the ship. The metal overhead and on either side would have been fine if he’d been underground; being aware of the slight roll of the ship under his feet made the harsh neon lights and cold, closed space less bearable to him.

Not that he could let it slow him down or distract him. This was John’s best lead on Hunnigan and if he didn’t take it, she could disappear. He didn’t want to think about for how long or to what end. For now, he was just focused on the fact that she had been taken alive when it would have been easier to kill her and Helena both.

_And then I’d have never stopped._

The small tired part of him that seemed ever present since Harvardville reminded him quietly that he had made similar brash promises about eradicating the T-Virus once. Then new virus has popped up, new dangers and threats and terror incidents, and now Adam was dead. There was a stranger in the office of the president, someone Leon hoped could do the right thing if needs must--but his vice president suggested otherwise.

His thoughts came back to Hunnigan although not with quite the focus he would have liked. He thought about her out on the balcony, that brief emotional moment when she had chastised him for his dangerous actions in Holigrad. Then she had said that _again_ and he’d been lost.

 _You can’t afford to be lost_ , that little voice reminded him, tired though it was and wishing they could stop. _One wrong move and you’ll be gone. Who’s going to get Hunnigan home then?_

He let that critical voice refocus him as he returned to the lift. One deck down. He glanced at the numbers on the panel and considered how much more he had to clear.

This time when the lift doors open, he saw a flash of white light and his ears rang. His hands came up and he fired a shot instinctively, not considering the possible structural damage he would do to the place, just wildly hoping that he hit whoever had thrown the stun grenade at his feet.

His ears were still ringing when he felt the blow come to the back of his head, knocking him the rest of the way out.


	6. Chapter 6

There was a flash on one of the monitors. It drew Ingrid’s eye with a frown but Danica’s gaze never left her face. The camera angle was fixed on a hallway. Mercenaries in tactical gear moved out of sight. Her fingers itched for a keyboard. What was happening out there?

“Why should I trust you?” she asked at last, forcing herself to look back at the woman. “I have no proof of who you are or your actual clout.”

She made a conciliatory, conceding gesture with her right hand. Her nails were manicured with a clear polish. Like the rest of the outfit, it gave her a clean, functional and elegant look. “And I have no assurance that you’ll stop investigating us or that you can really hold Helena Harper’s leash but here we are. It was this or kill you, and honestly, you seem like a useful ally.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean pawn?”

For the first time, there was some actual delight in Danica’s smile. “You see? I knew I liked you. I mean ally, Director. I _need_ allies. We have common aims, common interests. We need to be working towards the same objective, not at cross-purposes. The United States will do better with a strong DSO… just not pointed at us.”

Ingrid shook her head, ready to push back again. “We found two new viruses at the last safehouse we cleared.”

“Old projects, as abandoned as the property was. You can’t seriously think we still have an interest in all that.”

“Everyone has an interest in BOWs,” she protested. “Humanity isn’t good at shoving things back into Pandora’s box.”

A light laugh that ended in a shake of her head. “Much like nuclear weapons, the only way things can develop if we keep chasing bio-terror weapons is towards a stalemate. The attacks in Twelve Oaks and Lanshiang were proof that if opposite ends of the world were to attack all we could really manage is mutual assured destruction and no one is interested in that. Plagas have failed. Controllers, queen bees, all those silly experiments in mind-control were worthless. Scientists can make disasters and a handful of useful monsters but that’s no way to win the world.”

“So what _are_ you working on?” she asked, feeling bold enough to push further.

Danica smiled. “Ah, Director, to get into that, I’d need better than a truce. But I don’t think you’re ready to make that pact.”

Ingrid bowed her head and looked at her hands on her lap. Her dark green pajamas must have looked ridiculous compared to the put-together woman on the other side of the observation glass. She stood anyway, refusing to be self-conscious about her loose hair or bare feet.

The other woman waited patiently while Ingrid walked closer to the glass.

She stopped at about an equal distance back, intentionally mirroring the other woman as best she could. “Why have I never heard your name before?”

The question was enough to earn an arched brow. “Maybe you’re not as good as I thought.”

Ingrid checked a smirk. Danica might talk a good game about being better than Derek Simmons but she wasn’t without some of his family arrogance.

“But I’m sure you can understand why I value my privacy,” she added with a wave of her hand. “And I’ve been focused on my education. I left petty matters to others because I know how to delegate.”

“Let’s say I believe you.” Her stomach churned but her voice held together decently. “I really believe that you speak for the Family and that you’ll let me walk out of here alive as long as I stop coming after you.”

“That is what I’m proposing,” Danica affirmed.

“I need an assurance. Some kind of proof. To know that our deal is good.”

“That’s a reasonable request. So far, at least.”

“I want the vice president to step down.”

It was pretty satisfying to see the woman’s eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. “That’s quite an ask.”

“I think it’s pretty fair,” Ingrid answered evenly, almost lightly, as if this were just a negotiation between agencies, directors agreeing how to carve up jurisdiction between their agents.

Danica tilted her head slightly as if to consider Ingrid from a new angle. “And what do I get?”

She shook her head. “You’re the one who tipped the scales by putting someone that close to the presidency. I’m not asking you to remove any other handlers you have in the White House. I’m not even asking if you have agents in the DSO or FBI or CIA that I should be worrying about. The vice president is the highest ranking public official that we know of with ties to the Family. I can’t have him stepping up to become president.”

“That really isn’t our style.”

“But you set yourself up for it all the same. If worse came to worse, you could control the office of the president while you did any necessary damage control.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a sigh. “A necessary precaution after Simmons and Benford’s recklessness.”

Again, Ingrid bit the inside of her cheek but her expression wasn’t quite as neutral this close to the other woman, to a view of a door with a handle and the possibility of escape.

“I can see you doing the math, Director.” Danica watched her closely but the quirk at the corner of her mouth was certain. Smug. Self-satisified. “I know that you know you’re at a disadvantage here and now. Your ask regarding the vice president is smart. It’s a good way to confirm my identity and to push us back from the presidency. It’s not even an unreasonable ask.”

“But?” she prompted, trying not to think of Leon and the balcony. How long ago was the party? Was it still the same night? Ingrid pushed it all down, watching Danica carefully for any tells.

This time it was the other woman who took her time to reply. “I don’t trust you and I don’t have good leverage over you for the end game. I could threaten your family.” She waved a hand even as Ingrid blanched. “It’s cliche and it would give you less reason to trust me, not more. Besides, I think if I threatened anyone you cared about, you would be even more determined to bring us down. Your little vendetta in Benford’s name proves that well enough.”

“Adam Benford,” Ingrid said quietly, “Was my friend.”

“I know.” Her voice had also dropped and with it, some of the chill had bled away. There was an almost empathetic flicker in her eyes but it was gone before Ingrid could be sure of it. Danica squared her shoulders and then shrugged. “If I thought bribery would work, I would have tried that instead of kidnapping you. But you believe in your ideals like I do mine.”

“So what do you want?” She couldn’t help some genuine curiosity in the question. Much as she hated it, Danica had pegged her pretty well. She was right about what made her tick; she wouldn’t take a threat against her family or national security as a reason to back off but as a command to dive in, to go after the investigation without holding back.

The ice froze in her voice again, in that cultured Southern lilt. “I want a weakness. A button I can push if you get too close. Everyone has one, Director Hunnigan. I wonder, what is yours?”

Before she could answer a loud double beep made Danica look at her wristwatch. For the first time since she had changed the opaque glass for her dramatic entrance, the alleged head of the Family walked away from her spot, putting her back to Ingrid so she couldn’t see her hands as she typed something into a nearby console.

The door to the observation area slid open. A mercenary in a black tactical mask held a body over his shoulder in a fireman carry.

Before Ingrid had to decide whether to walk closer to try to catch the man’s face, the mercenary hooked a chair with his foot and pulled it away from the nearest computer station. Then, with a practiced shrug, the body was off his shoulder and deposited into the chair. The merc stepped around the prisoner to secure him with zip-ties, allowing Ingrid to see the man’s face.

She barely stifled a gasp. Leon Kennedy was still unconscious from all she could see and while it was very likely that Danica knew damn well who this was, she couldn’t afford to overreact. Leon was one of her agents, yes, and she could care about him but only so much. She had to keep her feelings, her fears, in check.

Her reaction seemed tempered enough that Danica started ignoring her in favor of coming over to take a better look at her second prisoner. Strange that they would bring him to observation instead of securing him in a cell like this one. Leon was a field agent. Computers might not have been his first path out but everything at hand could conceivably be a weapon for him. It seemed a needlessly risky chance.

“Agent Kennedy.” Danica waited to see if she would get a response. Then, with ruthless efficiency, she slapped him across the face.

Leon shot up with a growl, arms and legs already ineffectively straining against the chair that only jumped a little with him and then settled again as the armed mercenary behind him grabbed the back and pushed it down.

“Ah, there we are. Agent Kennedy,” Danica began again, “Before you say anything amusing or threatening, I’d like to direct your attention,” she pointed at Ingrid, “Over there.”

Warm blue eyes swept over her with no guard up at all. Ingrid already felt like crumbling before Leon whispered softly, with a voice full of unmistakable feeling, “Hunnigan.”

She felt their captor’s gaze sweep from the injured, infamous federal agent back to her. Leon seemed oblivious to Danica, only focusing on her as he leaned forward against his restraints, struggling to reach her. She could see the concern there in his eyes, deeper than just professional loyalty, and she knew Danica could see it too.

She could all but hear the abacus flick in the other woman’s mind. The flash of white teeth from Danica Simmons was too feral to be called a smile.

Time move strangely after that. Danica walked behind Leon without interrupting his gaze. Ingrid started to move, tried to think of what to say, but she felt choked, too much suddenly trying to get out at once. Her fists connected with the glass as Danica took the mercenary’s combat knife. She screamed as she saw the blade come down, a single desperate, “ _No!_ ” before it hit its mark.

Danica stabbed Leon through his left shoulder. He reacted with a violent shout that then became a strangled groan as he tried damp down his reaction to the pain. His head had fallen forward and his body was curling in on itself as much as it could.

Ingrid felt Danica’s eyes on her but she couldn’t stop staring in horror as Leon tried to calm down.

The head of the Family waited for a few moments, her gaze never leaving the DSO director, before she gave the blade a slight but obvious twist.

Leon swore, a string of obscenities that normally would have made Ingrid blush. Right now her whole body was shaking as he tried to straighten up again, tried to get some control over himself before they both ended up dead.

There was another few moments before Danica suddenly shrugged and said, “Alright, we have a deal.”

Ingrid collapsed to her knees. Leon startled up again, grimacing through the pain but trying to move his chair towards her before Danica yanked it down again.

“Give me that,” Danica instructed the mercenary. Ingrid didn’t even notice what it was until the woman in white pulled the knife back out just as quickly as she’d decided to stick it in. Once again, Leon tried to grit his teeth and hold back any sounds before he turned to the woman in white behind him.

“Who the hell are you?” he snapped.

She steered clear of his head and roughly pulled back his winter coat to use some kind of spray foam bandage on the wound. Ingrid realized in shock that Leon was still wearing his suit from the party. She sank from her knees the rest of the way to the floor.

His attention shifted back to her but this time he at least tried to mask his concern with a sharp, worried, “Director?”

“I’m fine,” she said faintly, still staring at his shoulder.

“Yes, she’s fine,” Danica reiterated more briskly. “That bandage should hold until she gets you both out of here.” Now her attention turned back to Ingrid. “My associates and I will leave you the _Coventina_. You’re a resourceful woman, Director Hunnigan. I’m sure you’ll get back to land or arrange the necessary extractions, whatever your preference.”

Ingrid looked up at her in disbelief. Something inside of her was screaming but she couldn’t make a sound.

Danica observed all this without so much as a nod. “Of course, I’m going to wait until I’m off the ship to release both of you, that’s just common sense. Director.” Danica waited until she had Ingrid’s attention. “We’re even now.”

That lilting, chilling voice rang in Ingrid’s ears.

_Mutually assured destruction._

Danica whisked past the mercenary without another word, out the only visible door to the observation room. Like a shadow, the masked hired gun followed after her immediately. The door slide shut behind them, 

And Ingrid Hunnigan was still trapped in her cell, on the wrong side of the glass.


	7. Chapter 7

Of all the awful things Leon Kennedy had seen in his life, the one thing he hadn’t imagined--that now realized ranked damn near the top of his personal worst--was the sight of Hunnigan crying over him.

It didn’t help that he was still tied to the chair and that his shoulder felt like it was on fire any time he shifted and it moved. There were ways out of this, objects around him that he could use to get free, get out of here, get after that ice queen who had a hand in kidnapping Hunnigan.

His director didn’t seem to be aware that she was crying. She was sitting in front of the glass, staring at him, one hand still on the transparent wall. The tears that had spilled over and rolled off her face had fallen on her dark green pajamas, leaving even darker spots. She looked even more vulnerable without her glasses, with hair down and fanning out over her shoulders, long and wavy. 

“Hunnigan.” He tried to say her name without giving so much away, like he hadn’t already fucked it up in a moment of pure panic that had gotten them here. He had no idea what kind of negotiation he’d walked in but the minute he had reacted to seeing her alone in that shining metal room, he’d slipped up. He’d given their enemy something to use against her and he hated himself for that.

She managed to shake her head and he braced himself for some kind of reproach. “I thought she was going to kill you,” she said and her voice broke on the words.

The words should have been a kick in the ass. They needed to get out of here. He needed to get Hunnigan away from these people and back to safety. Where she’d be safe now, he couldn’t really say; they’d taken her from her home on a night where she had extra security there to look after her. Would she even feel safe going back? His stomach churned and he continued to stare at her.

She shook her head again and he realized the tears had restarted while he sat there, gaping at her. “I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered.

In his line of work, anyone could want him dead at anytime, for personal reasons or not. It was a danger he was unfortunately all too used to. It was a danger, Leon was realizing now, that Hunnigan had been aware of too, although always from a safe distance back, only able to do so much to help him at any given time.

No, he hadn’t been afraid for himself, hadn’t even cared if it was the end. He had been scared when the woman moved around him that she was going to do something to Hunnigan and that he wouldn’t be able to stop her in time. The director’s life mattered more than his own. They were going to have to have a talk about that. About a lot of things.

But now wasn’t the right time. Trying to focus, he started with, “Are you alright?”

She rallied a little and her hand dropped away from the glass, joining its partner in her lap. “Yes. I think. I heard Agent Harper fighting with the intruders in the living room but by the time I got up, a team came into the bedroom with their weapons out. One of them chloroformed me and I woke up here. That must have been a few hours ago.”

“Yeah. John warned me Helena’s phone had gone dark. He got some surveillance footage, worked out that this ship was the most likely transport out.”

“Is Agent Harper alright?”

“Injured and hospitalized but yeah, she’s fine.” The throb of pain in Leon’s shoulder was an unwelcome reminder that he’d likely be laid up after this injury himself. Well, it could always get worse before it got better, he reminded himself as he looked around for a best way out of his restraints.

She rallied further and stood up, using the glass to brace herself. With her better vantage point, she studied the room and directed him back to one of the work stations where Leon was able to get a mulitool with a good enough edge to finish off his restraints.

Once his hands were freed, the ties to his ankles were quick enough work. Hunnigan had stood still for most of this but she began to pace back and forth a little as he stood up.

“She input some kind of access code,” Hunnigan walked over towards the console and pointed, “But she deliberately blocked my view so I don’t know what she used--”

While she was still offering that explanation, Leon picked up the chair he’d been kept in. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he swung it directly towards the glass.

Hunnigan yelped at the impact which did crack the thick viewing glass but not substantially at first. Leon grunted and swung again at the same point, bringing on a bigger web of cracks radiating outward from the initial break. On the third heft, he broke through to her side.

He set the chair down and took a few deep breaths, realizing that Hunnigan had moved back closer to the spot he had been working on and was examining the results. When she came back into view, he looked down and uttered a frustrated, “Shit.”

“It’s fine,” she cut him off, already stepping around the few pieces of broken glass carefully as she placed her hand on one of the pieces that was ready to give and pushed. It fell into his side of the room and she quickly moved onto the next, instructing him, “Take off your coat.”

Once she had made a wide enough passage through, Leon threw his winter coat over the worst of the glass and held out his good hand to help her across.

She took his hand and walked across quickly, not stopping when she cleared the coat but moving fully into his side as her arms came around his middle an embrace.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as he wrapped his right arm around her and held her in place, resting his cheek against top of her head. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, rubbing her back, “I’ve got you.”

Her grip on him eased down slowly but she didn’t let go or pull back. He wasn’t all that eager to let her go either so he just continued to murmur reassurances as she held onto him and composed herself.

Eventually when he felt her moving to straighten up, he did drop his arm lower on her back, his eyes meeting hers. One of her hands went up to lightly touch the foam bandage that had been applied to his shoulder. It still sent off a single sear of pain across the damaged muscles but Leon bit back any reaction.

“We need to get you out of here,” she said, like _she_ hadn’t been the target here.

He must have let the shock show on his face because the color rose in her cheeks as she added defensively, “You’re the one who’s hurt!”

“They were after _you_ , Hunnigan. We’re lucky that all they did was knock you out.”

She frowned and he suspected that she wouldn’t really believe that until a doctor gave her a full all clear. He knew he wouldn’t in her shoes. Even a brief period of unconsciousness was the perfect time for an enemy agent to stick you with something. DSO regulations included plenty of quarantines at every necessary check point.

Well, it wasn’t going to be the worst quarantine he’d been through, not if it was one step closer to getting Hunnigan back to US soil. He blanched a little as he became aware again of the continuing roll of the ship underneath their feet.

Her hand settled on his chest well below the wound while her brow furrowed in concern, deepening her frown. “Are you sure you don’t need to sit down or something? This may not be a main control room but they have a few security feeds going through here. I might be able to program an SOS without us having to head up to the top deck.”

“If we have to go back out there, you should definitely take the coat.” He glanced down at her bare feet again and winced. “There was some snow sticking while we were in port.”

Hunnigan sighed but it was a brief moment of frustration before she had her game face back on. The hand that had been laying on his chest gave him a slight pat and he pulled away at about the same time she did, watching her as she did pick up the coat, shaking off the glass shards as best she could before she put it on over her pajamas.

When she looked back at him, her eyes went from his injury to a sweep over the rest of his suit to the spot where his holster was resting on his shoulder rig, empty since the mercenary had taken his gun.

Leon read the way her gears were spinning and held up his hand. “Hunnigan, if there are any more bad guys out there, it’s my responsibility to get you through them. That means you stay behind me and if I get hurt, I get hurt.”

“You’re already hurt,” she pointed out, folding her arms over her chest.

The gesture was less reproachful when she was in his coat. Leon actually almost felt a smile coming on but he just arched an eyebrow at her instead. “So? That’s the job, Director.” He hoped the use of her title made his point felt. Still, just in case, he added, “I can take a few hits. We’re both going to have to go to medical anyway after this. Let’s just get through it as fast as we can, alright?”

She blew out a breath. “Fine.” She unfolded her arms and moved towards the computer. Leaning over, she put her hands over a keyboard and began to work on the door.

Much as he hated to rest, he reasoned he was no good to Hunnigan if he just pushed through wildly and had nothing held back in reserve when it would really count. He went back to the chair he’d used as a battering ram and set it upright. It didn’t even wobble as it took his weight, letting him settle in where he could keep an eye on the door, the hole in glass wall, and on the director while she worked.


	8. Chapter 8

Even though she felt Leon’s eyes on her, Ingrid mostly let herself get lost in the flow of her work. Cracking the code to access the computers was an easy first step. While she had gotten used to the chill of the empty, metallic holding room, she had to admit she was grateful for the extra layer of Leon’s winter coat. It was a little bulky but it didn’t get in the way of her typing. Her eyes were going to hurt when she was done but it was a small price to pay to get a beacon going to get them home.

Leon startled up when the door opened, bladed part of the multitool in hand, even as she let him know, “It’s me,” as a short update regarding the cause. He leaned back into the chair but she couldn’t say she was convinced he really relaxed. He continued to watch her work, now giving most of his attention to the open door while occasionally looking to the opened room.

She finally pushed away from the computer with a sigh, hands going up first to rub her temples, then her eyes themselves against the headache she felt coming on. When she looked up again, Leon was at her side, checking in with a quick, “You alright?”

“Fine. The SOS beacon is going. What now?”

“I’d like to find a defensible position,” he told her, and then gestured with the multitool, adding a bit more wryly, “And a better weapon than this, if we need it.”

“This is a lab ship,” she told him, giving him a run through of the specs she had accessed, highlighting the rooms and areas where they might best accomplish both objectives. They agreed that they would visit the nearest weapons locker and stock up. Then they would clear the labs first, to make sure there was no threat coming from them, then the crew quarters for the same reason. If help didn’t get here by then, they would go down to the engines.

It might be tricky to find a defensible spot but Ingrid explained that anything the could control from main steerage could be managed directly themselves--and if they took up that position, no one could take it from them. Leon had to agree that he found that a worthwhile trade off.

The ship was eerily quiet. Leon took point as he said he would, sometimes reaching out to hold her back while he sized up a corner. Ingrid could admit she wasn’t very good at this. She tried to move at his speed, to slow when he slowed, to stop before he had to remind her to stop, but practical examinations to keep up on certain certifications really wasn’t the same as fieldwork.

It was a point she was reminded of when she opened the weapons locker and found a full compliment of arms and ammo, a sight that made her frown.

Leon looked from her to the weapons then back before he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like guns,” she admitted. She tore her gaze away from the locker and looked up at him. “I really hoped I’d never have to use one outside competency tests.”

He nodded and held out a hand to her. Surprised, she reached out and took it, Leon giving hers hand a squeeze before he let it go and started to grab everything he felt he would need.

She found a hip holster and a handgun, a few clips of ammo that went into the pockets on the belt. Leon took more than she did but all with a mindfulness to his injured shoulder. He checked in with her, then closed the locker up again and they went on with their intended sweep.

Ingrid didn’t have her weapon out but Leon did as he cleared the corners now. There was a lot less pausing now that he was armed. She supposed she was grateful for that.

At each of the labs, Ingrid took a moment at each computer, trying to find out what the ship had been used for. Without her full compliment of DSO tools and not wanting to waste _too_ much time, she didn’t come up with much of anything. The drives had been wiped, no obvious clues left behind, but Leon reported back at each lab that he didn’t find anything that concerned them.

By the time, they made it to the first crew deck, Ingrid was embarrassed to realize the first place she looked upon entering the captain’s quarters was the full sized mattress. The break between screens hadn’t done enough for her eyes and while she thought of herself as physically fit, there was a new exhaustion she hadn’t expected from holding herself on constant alert.

Worse, Leon noticed, coming over to her with a serious look. “Do you need to lay down?” Before she could protest, he held up a hand then pointed to a clock hanging over on the wall near the desk. “Hunnigan, we’ve been at this all night. An hour or two won’t kill us.”

“Does that mean you’re going to sleep too?” She took off the holster and put it on the nightstand so the weapon was in easy reach.

Leon grabbed the chair from the desk and set it on the opposite side of the bed, facing the door. “If we’re here long enough, sure.”

“Is this something you do a lot in the field? Pull an all-nighter?”

He shrugged and answered, “If our lives depend on it, I will. But yeah, it’s been a while.”

With the weapon holstered, Ingrid took off Leon’s coat. She felt him watching her as she folded it up and put it in the cubby in the lower part of the nightstand. She turned and gave him a look before she turned down the blankets, climbing in the bed. Sheer stubbornness made her refuse to sigh with relief at the feel of finally having something covering her bare feet. At least resting like this for a moment would warm them up.

He had taken off the suit jacket and left it on the chair. Now, he loosened his tie and settled back into his chair with a sigh.

Then he noticed her watching him. It didn’t help that he immediately smiled _that_ smile. Ingrid refused to pull the blankets over her head like an embarrassed teenager. At least the rest of her was already out of sight when Leon gave her the kind of look that reminded her exactly why she had fallen for him the first time around.

And god help her, she had told him that with just one foolish little slip of _again_. If only she hadn’t gotten so worked up remembering Holigrad, the time that Leon had just shut her out and gone off the grid and nearly died.

But even though there was plenty of desire in his look, it seemed easily held in check by their circumstances and his smile softened into something gentler. “Go to sleep, Hunnigan. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you.”

Of course, the promise made her frown. “It’s not your fault the Family targeted me. Every choice I’ve made as a director has made them a second priority only to bio-terrorism. I knew when I sent Agent Silver after them it would only be a matter of time.”

“Were you going to tell me about your security concerns? Or do anything before it got to that point?”

Ingrid fixed him with a look and then pushed herself back up so that she was sitting on the bed, at least closer to eye level with him. “Do you think I was being careless with my security? There’s a reason I let Helena take me home and asked her to stay. But I have to make choices and part of our national security is not letting secret societies or cults of personality overrule how democracy works.”

He was watching her a lot more intently than the door but Ingrid had no doubt that if it opened, he would snap into protector mode without hesitating. Her bodyguard.

She was going to scoot back down into the bed and roll on her side to put her back to him when Leon said, “You know you’re important to me, right?”

Her heart leapt into her throat. Her mouth opened but she couldn’t find any words.

He certainly gave her a fair chance but when she didn’t say anything, he said, “I’m not talking about the party--although I think we should talk about that when this is all behind us. But I am saying that you’re not just my director or my support. You’re someone I trust. Of course I’m going to be worried if you’re in danger, Hunnigan. I just want to be in the loop.”

Grateful that he at least was acknowledging this wasn’t the right time to get into the balcony and that kiss, she closed her mouth briefly, swallowed hard and tried again to find her voice. “I’ve been worried about you since Adam died.”

Leon flinched and looked down at his hands for a moment before looking up at her again. “I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I know we all did what we had to get through it but… I shot him. And I’m never going to forget that.”

She wanted to reach out to him. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap, gently squeezing the pressure point along her thumb as she had learned to do all the way back in college when she felt anxiety closing in. “For what it’s worth, Leon, I know Adam wouldn’t want you beating yourself up. You protected Helena and you brought down Simmons. You stopped the global bio-terror attacks before things got so much worse.”

“But they’re not getting better, are they?” he asked, fixing her with that piercing stare. “Every time I think we’re close, a new virus springs up, a new terror group. I could fight this the rest of my life and there will still be work to do.”

She felt her shoulders rise and fall before she answered softly, “Yes.”

He let go of his breath and turned back towards the door, looking away from her.

“But,” she put down a hand on the bed, leaning towards him, trying to draw him back in, “That doesn’t mean the work you do is less valuable. If it wasn’t for you and Adam, there might not have been a DSO. There wouldn’t have been someone to believe Helena Harper when Simmons set her up to take the fall. Everything you’ve done has made the world a safer place, Leon. You just can’t expect to do it all by yourself for the rest of your life.”

“Is that why you brought Helena on as my partner?” His gaze stayed on the door a moment longer before he finally turned back to measure her response.

“Hate me for saying this if you want to, Leon, but I want you to live long enough to retire from this work someday.” Her heart was pounding against her ribs but her eyes showed a steely resolve. If this was the conversation he wanted, she wasn’t going to back down or handle it with kid gloves. He meant too much to her for that. “Bio-terror isn’t going to go away in our lifetime. Maybe if someone like Adam had been the president during Raccoon City and we had disavowed Umbrella right away. Maybe things would be different now, but they’re not. We work with the world we’re given and we do our best. Sometimes we only make a small difference but it matters. It makes the world a better place.”

There was a moment of silence as the words hung between them and then Leon cleared his throat. “You know, Director,” his voice was teasing and affectionate but there was genuine amazement underneath the words, “I had no idea you had such a big heart.”

Her cheeks almost undoubtedly went scarlet. She huffed, embarrassed now by her sudden earnestness, and laid back down, rolling on her side as she’d previously intended, putting Leon at her back. She was pretty sure she heard a chuff of laughter from him before he settled back in the chair.

She thought she was mad enough to stay awake but once her head was settled on the pillow, the long events of the day washed over her, leeching away the last of her energy and pulling her down into a deep, deep sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

If this was hell, he deserved it, Leon decided as he watched Hunnigan sleep.

She had started out with her back towards him and he supposed he deserved that. He knew he had told her an hour or two but that had been a white lie intended to just give her permission to relax. It seemed to have worked because she nodded off fairly quickly, her breathing giving away when she fully fell asleep.

She only rolled over once and, of course it was to her other side, facing him now as she slept. Leon had spent more of the last three hours watching her than the damn door but he supposed it just proved what he already knew about himself. Only a masochist could be in this much pain and be happy about it.

He had probably memorized every line of her face. One of her hands had come up to the other pillow as well, resting on it. He had spent the last half hour wishing off and on to be that pillow, laying down next to her with her hand on his chest.

A masochist. A total masochist.

Hunnigan was safe or at least safer now than when he’d found her. He still didn’t know what was up with the woman in white who had been trying to strike a deal with her. He thought about having Hunnigan debrief him but it had been obvious even before they had gotten to captain’s quarters that she was running on fumes.

This wasn’t what she signed up for. Like any member of a federal agency, she had to be able to handle herself but that didn’t mean she was cut out for the particular demands of field work.

When he had been in high school, dreaming of being a cop and helping people, Leon had never imagined the life that had actually ended up unfolding for him. Being stabbed in the shoulder still ranked well below that time that he had been infected with plaga, wondering if he was going to fully turn into one of the living dead, whether he’d be able to save Ashley Graham in time.

The nagging fear that Hunnigan was carrying something was still in the back of his mind. The more time ticked on until they were rescued, the more time passed for anything they might have given Hunnigan to incubate. It was a possibility he couldn’t discount.

Something in her dream caused her to shift and sigh. Her fingers curled into the pillow slightly before she settled in again.

“ _You’re important to me_.” God, what an understatement. The only person he’d known longer than Hunnigan, who he trusted more than her, was Claire and most of those years counted with his fellow Raccoon City survivor were not years where they had been in touch.

Hunnigan, on the other hand, had been there, in his ear and on his screen, for hundreds of missions for the better part of a decade. He had trusted her again and again with his life.

He had been a cocky young man chasing skirts when he flirted with her after the Los Grenados incident. He had taken Adam seriously and learned to value her as a colleague. She was absolutely the best candidate to be the DSO director. Her little pep talk before her head hit the pillow was a good reminder that she had really grown into being a leader. He was incredibly proud of what she’d accomplished since taking the role.

But he had only suppressed, not forgotten, that spark of attraction that he’d felt from the moment he first saw her on his screen all those years ago. It sure seemed like he wasn’t the only one. He had no idea what he had done to make it obvious enough that Helena felt a little match-making was in order but maybe if they got through this and found the people who were hunting Hunnigan, he’d thank his partner for her meddling.

“ _I want you to live long enough to retire._ ”

It made sense that her goal was to keep him alive. It was even kind of sweet that she thought he could have some kind of life outside this.

But this was all he had known since he was twenty-one years old. It hadn’t exactly been what he’d imagined when he joined the force but he’d had the right skills to survive and then flourish as a federal agent. For the first few years, he really thought he would get ahold of all the escaped Umbrella researchers and lock down the T-Virus.

What would life look like if he let someone else take over the fight? Hunnigan didn’t have to come right out and say it but it was more than obvious now why she had partnered him with Helena. He could even see it. Another ten years if she made it and Helena Harper would be as good as him if not better.

The thought didn’t bother him as much as it should. Sure, he expected to die doing this work but the idea that there would be someone good enough to replace him was a comfort. Sherry, too, would be able to step up although he wished the kid didn’t feel such a sense of responsibility to the world. The world had hurt her enough. If she stepped down today, he’d be the first to say she had already done enough. She could have whatever life she wanted.

But Sherry hadn’t asked his opinion on the matter and he wouldn’t tell her. She looked up to him and Claire like family after losing her parents but she had figured out things on her own. She’d become a federal agent of her own initiative, the only freedom Simmons had allowed her over the years. And she had done good work. He was proud of her too.

Was he getting old? Sitting here in this chair wasn’t asking much but Leon acutely felt the aches and the pains of the day, especially the dull ache in his shoulder.

Coming out of his thoughts, he realized Hunnigan’s head had lifted from the pillow, just enough that he knew she’d woken up. “What time is it?” she murmured, her voice washing over him and filling him with a rush of awareness after so many hours of silence.

“Go back to sleep.” He told himself he was keeping his voice down so she wouldn’t wake up the rest of the way, not because he knew even before he spoke that it would be too rough to disguise the want and longing there.

The way she smiled at him half-asleep hurt more than when that ice queen had twisted that knife. “Come to bed,” she told him, patting the pillow lightly.

Leon stared at her, certain he heard wrong.

Turning her face into the pillow with a groan, her eyes were closed as she turned back towards him again but her voice was clear as she said, “Leon, come lay down.”

He felt like he was sleep walking as he got up from the chair. He took his tie off, adding it to the jacket on the back of the chair, then took off his shoulder holster, setting his guns so they would be in easy reach.

He didn’t take off his shoes and he didn’t untuck his corner of the covers from under the pillow. He laid down on top of the sheets with his hands folded over his stomach. He stared up at the ceiling and listened to the sounds of the ship, more aware of the rocking of the ocean underneath him now that he was on his back.

Hunnigan’s arm slipped out from under the covers. The hand that had been on his pillow traveled lightly, carefully over his wounded shoulder, and settled over his heart.

Leon let go of his breath very, very carefully and closed his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

Ingrid didn’t hear the noise that woke Leon up but her hand fell off his chest and hit the bed and the sensation was enough to pull her out of sleep. There was a moment of confusion as she realized the bed wasn’t hers, that the room was rocking slightly, and that Leon Scott Kennedy was getting up out of the bed in dress slacks and a ruined shirt with the shoulder darkened around a once bloody wound.

He turned back long enough to put a finger over his mouth and Ingrid nodded, getting out from under the covers carefully, her bared feet immediately regretting their return to the cold metallic world of the ship that the were on. She put on the belt and holster as quickly as she felt she could while accounting for basic safety and then quickly pulled out Leon’s winter coat from the nightstand cubby, unfolding it and putting it back on.

Leon had gone through his own similar process on the other side of the bed, only throwing the undone tie around his neck before putting his suit jacket back on and getting his sidearm out.

Ingrid rushed over to the closet and found in amidst the handful of clothes at least one pair of winter boots with a felted lining. They declared a men’s sizing and they were a little big, enough that they clopped when she stepped but she laced them as tight as she could and tried to move carefully to join Leon at the door.

While the captain’s quarters had a desk, it didn’t have any kind of personal computer or access to the ship’s. “Engine room?” he confirmed, making sure that was still their best plan.

Ingrid nodded and confirmed back the route. Her study of the ship’s layout wasn’t enough to draw everything from memory but she was confident about their path.

As Leon had warned, it wasn’t the most defensible place they had been in the ship but he set himself between the terminal and the primary entrance to cover Ingrid while she hacked back in to the system and tried the radio.

A message came back in Morse code. Ingrid looked up to Leon just as he looked back over his shoulder with a smile. The coded message was a DSO security test and Ingrid promptly sent back the necessary response to pass the check.

“Calvary finally showed up, huh,” Leon said as she closed down the terminal, indicating they should head out. Even the small display of humor didn’t fully hide his relief.

Once in the hallway, she oriented herself to the nearest elevator. Leon fell naturally into step beside her. She almost felt the urge to reach out and squeeze his hand.

They made it all the way to the elevator and got inside. There was nothing for it but to wait for the lift to do its work as they made their way up to the cabin for extraction.

Suddenly finding themselves standing still after this sudden burst of activity, Ingrid suddenly found it hard to look at Leon for too long. Worse, he noticed.

“Something you’d like to say, Director Hunnigan?” The combination of title and his usual name for her had a bit of wry warmth to it but she noticed he was carefully keeping his eyes from her as well.

“I need you to stay in D.C. when we get back.”

He was surprised enough that he turned to her, only to realize she was looking at him, chin up, shoulders squared. “Yeah, well, I imagine that the doctors aren’t going to clear me right away while this,” he gestured to his shoulder, “Heals up.”

“No, Leon,” Ingrid said softly, “I mean I need you to stay low until I figure out how much the Family knows about you.”

Now his brow furrowed and he stepped towards her. “Hunnigan, who was that woman who captured you?”

“She said her name was Danica Simmons and that she’s the head of the Family now.”

Leon took a moment to process that. “Did she say something about me? Make some kind of personal threat from the Family that wasn’t hanging over my head before?”

That glittering white smile that made Ingrid think of fangs flashed across her mind.

“Yes,” she said quietly, knowing she wasn’t really telling the truth.

He stood still for another moment considering this and then took another step towards her. Ingrid stepped back reflexively and felt the metal handrail at the lower part of her back. Her heart sped up as she looked up from Leon’s shoulder and into his eyes.

His voice was just as low as hers as he asked, “Is this about us?”

_Us._ Her heart was pounding loud enough against her chest that she was certain she could hear it even over the sound the elevator steadily finishing its ascent. “Yes,” she whispered at last.

He let out his breath, slow and controlled, and Ingrid suddenly realized he had done the same thing last night when she had reached out for him after he climbed into bed. She half-remembered asking him to join her and she couldn’t bring herself to feel ashamed about it because she had been worried about him and he had chosen the chastest way possible to join her.

But the way he was looking at her now and the way the elevator bar was digging into her lower back as she stared up at him somehow felt even more heated than that kiss on the balcony. Her mouth started to open instinctively as he seemed to lean towards her again.

The elevator dinged and Leon turned away as the door opened behind them. There was no one there in the cabin to greet them but she heard the helicopter flying over the ship.

By the time they got out on deck, four SEALs had dropped to the deck by rope and the helicopter was lowering a basket to lift her and Leon out.

“Ma’am.” The one who was leading the unit saluted sharply before telling her, “We’ve got orders to secure this and get you and Agent Kennedy MEDEVAC-ed.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she said, reading the rank off his uniform insignia.

“You first, Director,” Leon said, gesturing to the basket.

She gave him a look, ready to protest that he was injured but that flinty look was back in his clear blue eyes and she closed her mouth. “Thank you, Agent Kennedy,” she said, trying not to sound too short about it.

Both men helped her into the basket and the team members still inside pulled her up.

It was just a few minutes more until Leon was strapped into the seat beside hers and they were flying off.


	11. Chapter 11

It was a very small comfort to be back in his apartment again. There wasn’t exactly a lot of personal memorabilia here but Leon threw the plastic hospital bag containing the ruins of his only suit into the arm chair in front of his television on the way to his bedroom to pack a to-go bag.

He and Hunnigan had been separated during quarantine procedures. He’d had plenty of time to stew about everything. He wondered if she had done the same.

Hunnigan had filed her debrief and he had been able to get his hands on a copy of that. That was the one good thing about quarantine: it was a good time to catch up on paperwork.

Now that he knew exactly what that Danica woman had been angling for, Hunnigan’s decision to ground him made too much sense. He might not have spent his last day as a field agent but the DSO was well within its rights to run a threat assessment to figure out just how much he and Hunnigan and hell, for that matter, Helena were really at risk.

Leon went to his closet and started packing clothes automatically. In his doorway, his partner settled against the door frame. Helena was well on the way to her own recovery from the attack that had taken place in Director Hunnigan’s condo a few days ago. She wouldn’t need to undergo PT or anything like he would; the only thing grounding her was the threat assessment.

Helena and Sherry had been there for both of them when they gotten into port. Sherry had gone with Hunnigan in one of those black company cars that usually drove the director around. He knew Hunnigan was just doing the same thing that he was doing before they were taken to the safe house.

It had been a while since he’d been grounded for this kind of assessment. He used to be able to go to Adam and have a frank conversation about the dangers of his work. He didn’t know if the old director pushed back on the president at all but generally the only time Leon really took down time was when an injury absolutely required it or there was nothing to investigate.

“You’re thinking so loudly I can hardly hear myself,” Helena remarked.

And he was packing with a little too much force. Leon made himself stop and take a deep breath, even though he let it go with a huff. He looked at his partner and saw she had one of her glares leveled at him. “What?”

“She’s fine. She’s safe. You got her back.”

“Thanks, Harper, I knew that.”

“Take that stick out of your ass, Kennedy, and listen to yourself. Whatever _this_ Simmons wants with Hunnigan, there’s no way she’s going to get it. The director was playing her for time and it worked.”

“I knew that too, Helena. Tell me something I don’t know or let me pack in peace.”

Helena straightened up from the doorway and took a step into the room. “You might very well be the only friend Hunnigan’s got.”

Hearing someone else use that address for the director almost made Leon scowl but as he looked at his partner, she had the self-satisfied look of an interrogator who knew she’d found a nerve.

“Even if it’s only that,” and his partner sounded _very_ skeptical of that point but since she was being polite, he let it pass, “That takes you from ‘good’ leverage to maybe the best the Family has to try to put her in line. It might even work.”

Leon threw down the shirt he was holding and stepped towards Helena, jabbing a finger at her chest. “She’s better than that.”

“It’s sweet that you think so but we’re all human, Leon.” His partner didn’t even look phased by his anger, just accepting it knowing that it had been provoked. “This life is lonely and hard. Director Hunnigan knows you’re her best agent but she lost President Benford too. I can understand why she’s feeling protective. As a friend.”

As if repeating that definition of his relationship to Hunnigan made them both believe this was only that.

Leon looked at his partner and saw that even with fewer years behind her, she wore just as many burdens on her shoulders as he did now that she was fully in the DSO. He had told her she had a place here. He had actually been happy when Hunnigan made them a team.

 _We both chose this life_.

So had Hunnigan, just on a different path. Leon let out another breath but smoother this time, more in control of himself. He turned back to pick up the shirt he threw and packed it away. He zipped the duffel bag and picked it up, shouldering the strap.

Helena didn’t move out of the doorway yet. “Trusting you when Simmons had Deborah was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

His head dropped to one side as he told his partner in exasperation, “Is that why you wouldn’t tell me anything but insisted you had to show me for me to believe it?”

They both knew it wasn’t that. Helena had tried to warn her fellow USSS agents but they were were already predisposed to disbelieve her. Trust really wasn’t Helena Harper’s long suit and so she had battled between trying to do it all herself and needing _someone_ to help her get her little sister out of Tall Oaks Cathedral alive.

Only they hadn’t. But they had at least put Simmons on a spike.

His half-hearted attempt at a barb rolled right off her and Leon saw the sisterly concern that now filled her eyes. “Something tells me that Director Hunnigan is going to need to let someone in if we’re going to actually have a shot at taking the Family down. No matter how much Benford meant to her, she can’t do it alone.”

“I know.” Leon pushed rolled his neck and his shoulders before straightening up and looking at his partner again and repeating firmly, “I know, OK? I’m not going to let her do anything stupid. _I’m_ not going to do anything stupid. I’m on recovery leave until I can prove this shoulder isn’t going to slow me down. I’m going to stay in the safe house and go to PT and make sure that Hunnigan realizes she doesn’t have to do this alone.”

“Good.” Now Helena pivoted to let him through the door, making an _after you_ gesture with her hands. She waited until they were both in the living room while Leon wasn’t in easy reach of anything to turn into an improvised weapon before she asked, “Hey, did you say in your report that you slept with her?”

He turned on the spot and, as expected, lifted the strap of his duffel bag like he intended to brain her with it. “ _Helena._ ”

She didn’t even lift up her hands in mock surrender, just stared at him. “I just thought you said you couldn’t sleep on open waters.” One of the things that had come up over drinks, early on, while they were trading confidences and building trust as partners.

Slowly, Leon let go of the strap. “Yeah, well, I was asleep when I heard the proximity alarm. So, like I said, I must have slept.”

Helena _mhm_ -ed this information and walked out the front door as he held it open. They didn’t say anything else to each other after he locked up or on the way down to her car. She put on the radio and let it run interference between them as they drove to the safe house.


	12. Chapter 12

After a brief detour to her apartment, Sherry had brought Ingrid back to the safe house. They apparently had beat Leon and Helena there, something she wasn’t sure had happened by accident or design. Sherry Birkin, unlike Helena Harper, was generally very sweet and open, earnest almost to a fault.

That was why it was so notable to Ingrid that the young woman had been quiet almost the entirety of the trip. Lots of people underestimated Sherry. She looked younger than her years and she was so pleasant and helpful that most people didn’t think that she would actually use the weight of her badge. But Ingrid wouldn’t be here with only Sherry to look after her if the DSO agent wasn’t at least as competent as Agent Harper.

In an effort to busy herself, she had gone to the kitchen and checked all of the supplies there before settling on making a pot of coffee. It was early enough in the day that Ingrid wasn’t worried about having one. Not that she needed to worry; she and Leon were on threat assessment leave for the foreseeable future.

“Cream or sugar?” Sherry called around the doorway as the coffeemaker gave a final hiss.

“Cream please,” Ingrid called back, still walking around the living room, which was more decorated for the holidays than her own condo had been. She was relieved that all the decorative greenery was fake and tasteful, just like the simple strands of white lights that entwined with them. Whoever was keeping the house up hadn’t gone as far as a tree, even a fake one, and she was grateful for that.

Sherry appeared with two mugs and Ingrid took hers with a soft thanks. Much like that night with Helena, the two women seemed to settle naturally onto opposite sides of the couch, slightly turned towards each other as they drank.

The young agent only managed a few sips before she asked nervously, “Are you sure there isn’t anything else that I can get you? I mean, I know that the DSO will take care of your food deliveries and, of course, security will be monitoring things.”

“I’m used to a certain amount of security,” Ingrid admitted, “But I’m not exactly thrilled to be under a microscope.”

Sherry broke into a big, empathetic smile. “I can relate.”

Ingrid felt a pang in her heart but she wanted to connect with the young agent on this point; she wouldn’t pretend that she had said it while conveniently ‘forgetting’ Sherry’s past. “And I don’t know how Leon’s going to feel about it. I’m glad that he’s willing to share the safehouse with me. It’s certainly big enough for both of us.”

“Director,” the young woman started carefully, staring down at her coffee mug as she held it in her lap, composing her thoughts. “I know that you know about my history with Agent Kennedy and how much he means to me.”

“I do. I’m glad that you two seem to have done better connecting now that Simmons is gone.” Before it had all come out, Ingrid had really only known that Sherry was a DSO agent, that she was mostly working directly with Simmons as her handler. She had no reason to suspect the National Security Advisor at that time. If only she had known the full story…

But she could say that about a lot of things and Sherry seemed to have wool-gathered enough to get brave and look up at Ingrid again. “Are you trying to get Leon out of the field?”

It wasn’t quite the question she was expecting. It was still a fair one though. Blinking, she tried to gather her own thoughts. She supposed that it was less intrusive than asking about her relationship with Leon directly. Ingrid drank deeply from her coffee before setting it to the side.

“Agent Birkin.” She immediately reconsidered this start, taking a breath and starting over, “Sherry. I’ve been working with Agent Kennedy for almost ten years now. He’s been fighting this fight for almost fifteen. He’s done incredible work. I mean, just looking at the recent global bio-terror attacks--I don’t want to think what we would have done without him.”

“But he can’t do this alone,” she continued, “And even if he has help like you and Helena and the rest of the DSO, there’s going to come a point where he can’t keep doing this. He might die in the line of duty but I’m hoping that it won’t end like that because when he’s ready, he’ll retire. But I know Leon. I know he won’t even consider that right now.”

She turned slightly more into the couch as she looked at Sherry who was sitting still, watching her with sharp, blue eyes. Ingrid resisted the urge to fold her arms around herself by placing her hands, palms down, in her lap. “So I wanted him to pass his wisdom along to someone like Agent Harper. If she can learn from Agent Kennedy, then maybe he’ll reach a point where he’s ready to step down because he can hand over the reigns. But it’s enough for me that he’s no longer going into the field alone these days.”

Nodding, Sherry started to pick up her coffee mug but before she could lift it all the way to drink from it, she paused again. “You really care about him, don’t you?” she asked softly.

There was something very different about having that question come from Sherry than from Helena and Ingrid couldn’t quite stop a blush. She ultimately decided to cover for herself by picking up her coffee mug again and holding it between both hands.

Before she could answer though, she heard the sound of a car coming up the drive. The safe house sat back far enough that there could be a good an early warning system and a singular chime sounded as the car crossed the line.

“That’s a friendly,” Sherry remarked, responding to the tone of the chime.

That was good to know. Ingrid realized she was going to have to get more familiar with the alert systems if she didn’t want to be jumping at every sound or warning that the safe house provided.

The moment of conversation seemed to have been broken off by mutual agreement and the two women focused on finishing their coffee as the car made its way up to the house. Sherry stood up and took the emptied mugs before Leon and Helena got out of the car.

Ingrid felt her heart jump back into her throat as they came up to the front door. Helena keyed in a security code and then held the door open for Leon who walked into the foyer with a duffel bag over his uninjured shoulder.

Their eyes met. Leon looked more like himself in his jeans and leather jacket rather than the suit he had been wearing during the Christmas party and her rescue. They had seen each other after the quarantine period but only briefly, not long enough to talk.

And she was more casually dressed than she’d ever have been in the office. The soft, black leggings and tunic length green sweater were intentionally chosen comfort clothes. The thick wool socks were probably a very obvious indulgence after being kidnapped in her night clothes with no covering for her feet.

Helena stepped in and moved close enough to Leon to shake him out of his stupor. Ingrid realized at the same time that Sherry had come back to the doorway between the kitchen and the living space. “Hey guys,” she said, finding a cheery smile, “Anyone want coffee?”

Both agents offered affirmatives and Sherry didn’t ask about how they’d doctored their drinks, just went off to make up their mugs.

“You all settled in, Director?” Leon asked at last, moving to set the duffel bag down and unlace his boots.

Ingrid gave a _mhm_ affirmative while she watched him and, to a lesser degree, Helena get ready to come in. When Leon stood up and re-shouldered the bag, she added, “I took the bedroom on the south side of the house.”

“Alright. This way then?” he pointed towards the other bedroom on the opposite side for himself. When she nodded, he went off that way while Sherry returned with two new mugs for Helena, passing it off to her friend before putting Leon’s on the coffee table in front of the couch.

The junior DSO agent blew on her coffee as she walked towards the living room. “John didn’t have anything new to report on the drive over,” Helena reported before she drank deeply from her mug. “We’re still checking in to Danica Simmons but I still say that Birkin and I should jump on our leads before they go cold.”

Ingrid nodded. “I agree with you but you’ll have to convince the acting director. They’re taking this security breach seriously enough that I’m firmly off-duty this week and if the threat assessment takes longer, then we’ll see about having me do some desk work from here.” Calling her kidnapping a ‘security breach’ was at least one way of putting some distance between her feelings and her responsibilities as the DSO director.

Helena sighed but seemed to accept the necessary paper hurdle, quickly draining the rest of her mug. She crossed over to Sherry and the two agents disappeared back into the kitchen.

Leon appeared again and saw that his coffee had been set on the table in front of the couch. Casting a glance at the kitchen, he came closer and picked up the mug, carrying it over to the arm chair that had been set up as an L to the couch. Her heart fluttered as he settled in. He was closer now but he felt further away and Ingrid distracted herself by drinking the rest of her coffee.


	13. Chapter 13

Leon had almost appreciated Helena and John talking all the way over on the drive. It gave him plenty of things to think about, even though he was technically on leave. The doctor had given him instructions and pain medication, and a PT schedule set to start next week. He was still turning over some of those things as he sat next to Hunnigan.

The three-seater couch provided plenty of room if he had really been inclined to sit at the other end where Sherry had set his coffee. Instead, he looked to the kitchen, wondering if the other women would hang around for a moment as long as he left them space.

Besides, even with a space between him and Hunnigan, it felt like it would be too easy to reach out to her. Hell, he was aware of how just close his hand was to the couch as he rested it on the arm of his chair. All he had to do was sit forward a little if she reached out… but she didn’t and so neither did he.

She looked like she belonged in this Hallmark card house. Well, not full Hallmark card, not without a tree, but it was more festively decorated than anything he had done for the holidays… ever. And after so many years of seeing Hunnigan in sharp, sleek suits, she looked a lot softer in her oversized evergreen sweater.

But she looked more like herself with her glasses and her hair pulled back the way she preferred it. It had been years since he teased her about looking cute without her glasses. Maybe it was getting older, maybe it was getting used to seeing her this way, but he realized how much he liked how they framed her face, especially her eyes.

And that was when he realized he was staring at her--and she at him. They both busied themselves with their coffee as Helena and Sherry reappeared from the kitchen.

“Are you two heading out?” Hunnigan asked the women.

“We can be,” Helena offered, looking from her partner to the director and trying out a smile just to be polite.

“Or we can come back later if you want company,” Sherry offered, her smile a lot more natural and seemingly oblivious to any tension in the room. “I mean, it’s just a couple days until Christmas proper. Unless the acting director does send us out, of course.”

Leon didn’t know what to say to that but Hunnigan didn’t hesitate to say graciously, “Well, let us know. I haven’t celebrate Christmas on the day in a long time but if we’re all in town with nowhere to go, that could actually be fun.”

He hoped his eyes didn’t bug out quite as much as Helena’s at their director’s suggestion that they could all do something _fun_ in the midst of an on-going threat assessment against her, the head of the DSO, and him, one of their most senior agents.

But Sherry and Hunnigan didn’t seem to notice, both women smiling at each other as Sherry excitedly agreed that she would. Then the two younger field agents said their goodbyes and headed out, leaving the company car Sherry had driven to bring her and Hunnigan in, taking off in Helena’s car instead.

Leon waited for the sensor to confirm they had crossed the driveway out before he turned to look at Hunnigan. Out of all the questions he wanted to ask her, he was almost surprised to hear himself ask first: “Not a fan of Christmas?”

“Not a fan of explaining to my mother why I’m such a workaholic,” she answered, smiling despite some sadness in her eyes.

They had known each other almost ten years and Leon was pretty sure this was the first time Hunnigan had ever talked about her family. What had broken the seal, he wondered as he looked at her, watching her stare down into her coffee mug like it held the answers. Was it the office party or her kidnapping? Or was it Adam’s death?

Before he could say something else, she looked up again, catching him off-guard with those piercing hazel eyes. “I had just started my freshman year of college when Raccoon City was destroyed.” Leon was too floored by that even more personal remark to say anything so she continued quietly but clearly. “I was on the fence about what I wanted to major in but seeing that… decided it for me.”

“Yeah?” His voice came back and he heard himself ask, “What you’d decide?”

“Information technology and security.” She said it so casually that he almost laughed. At eighteen, all he had known was that he wanted to be a cop. He’d enrolled in the academy the first day he knew they’d take him. Had Hunnigan always been so whip-smart? _Probably_ , he thought as he watched her talk. “Dad was an early adopter, he loved computers, so they were always around when I was growing up. I was scouted a few times in college, especially by DOD types. Eventually it lead to a job with FOS.”

Not looking to second-guess his gut now, he asked, “Was that when you met Adam?”

The smile that crossed her features took him by surprise again, this time enough that he felt his heart skip a beat. If he hadn’t have known Adam so well and Hunnigan well enough, he might have felt jealous. As it was, there was certainly an affection there, but nothing worth getting his hackles up.

Hunnigan seemed oblivious to his pointed attention, staring across the room at nothing while she talked. “I met Adam very shortly after I took the job, yes. I think he wanted to be careful not to come across as inappropriate so he waited until I had a few missions under my belt.” Now her gaze went to Leon as she said, “But he called me in before telling me I was going to be your support on the Graham kidnapping.”

_Adam did that?_ “He must have thought very highly of you to put you on the case.”

Her cheeks did color a little at the compliment but she didn’t demure too much as she said, “We both knew how important the mission was. I mean, we didn’t know exactly what they would do to Ashley but she was the president’s daughter. I knew DSO was sending you and you were their best agent. Adam must have thought I was up to it.”

“Clearly, you were,” Leon intoned wryly.

That was enough to make Hunnigan laugh. She had looked away but now her gaze came back to him and Leon was happy to see that she still had a small smile. “You said I looked young.”

Now he wondered if he was blushing. “You _did_ look young. But you sure put me in my place.”

“I wasn’t trying to do that!”

“It’s a compliment, Hunnigan.”

“Oh.” She smiled down at her coffee mug for a moment and then looked back up at him. “Thank you.”

He held her gaze and this time, without anyone in the house to keep an ear out for, he didn’t startle away. Neither did she. It was nice.

Eventually, he said softly, “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out more after Adam’s death.”

She shook her head. “I could have reached out more to you.”

“You’d just been made Director. You had a lot more on your plate.”

“Are we really going to argue about this?”

He couldn’t help it. He grinned. “I don’t know,” he teased, “ _Are_ you going to keep arguing with me about this?”

“When you put it that way, you sure sound like you’re convinced you’re right,” she replied, fixing him with a look before picking up her mug and finishing her coffee off.

She stood up from the couch. Before her sweater could fall back around her hips, he saw just how well those black leggings outlined her legs and… well. He wondered if she noticed him staring at her ass as she walked off to the kitchen to refill her mug.

_What the hell are you doing, Kennedy?_ he asked himself.

He already knew the answer when he got up and followed her to the kitchen. She was starting a second pot of coffee since the maker was actually fairly small and the four cups served had already wiped them out.

She stopped as he got closer and turned after he moved to stand at her side. “Why have we never talked like this before?” he asked, staring into her eyes, already half-knowing the answer.

Her hand was on the counter, like she was bracing herself. It took just about all his self-control not to reach out and pull her into his arms, recovering shoulder be damned.

“It’s not easy for me.” Her breath was shaky when she exhaled but she held his gaze as she continued softly, “To open up about personal things. And we worked so closely for so many years…” She took another deep breath to steady herself, letting her gaze drop to his injured shoulder.

“Hunnigan.” He waited until she looked up again. “I read your debrief report.”

Her reaction was expected but it still stung. She straightened up entirely, squaring her shoulders, that mental armor sliding right back into place as her hand left the counter and fell to her side.

It hurt enough that he couldn’t let it go, even if he couldn’t attack it head on. “Are you going to let me go back into the field?”

“When your PT is over and the threat assessment is complete? Yes, Agent Kennedy,” she stepped back from him, already working her way around the island counter in just a few steps. “When you’re cleared, you can go back to field work.”

He thought about stopping her as she fled. They were going to be trapped together in this house for at least a week and he’d already started off on the wrong foot.

But this was about more than this week. This was about what he had started--or restarted--with that kiss on the balcony at the Christmas party. This was about Hunnigan crying over him while he was hurt. This was about that look she had given him in the elevator of the _Coventina_ that had almost made every damn thought fly right out of his head.

He had never chosen anything over the job. Even falling for Ada, ridiculous as that inescapable crush had become, he’d always set it aside for the job.

But this was Hunnigan. No matter how much he wanted her, he had to do this right.

Sighing, Leon shrugged out of his jacket and found the stopper for the sink. It took a little longer to find some dish soap and a scrubbing pad but he turned his frustrations out on cleaning the mugs.

A week together at a minimum. He had time to figure this out.


	14. Chapter 14

Originally the idea of being in the safe house for a week with Leon was appealing. He might not be in top shape but it was better than having a series of rotating agents guarding her from afar. Between security features and both of them being armed, the acting director was satisfied that having them together for the duration of the threat assessment was enough.

Now as Ingrid hid out in her room with one of three books she had grabbed from her condo, she wondered if she hadn’t made a serious mistake. If that kiss on the balcony wasn’t Pandora’s box, that moment on the elevator when she had acknowledged any kind of _us_ regarding them definitely was. What kind of hope there was for her still within the box she couldn’t say; she was just acutely aware of all the miseries she had let out.

She held out as long as she could before hunger demanded she go back to the kitchen. She found the mugs cleaned and a note held by a magnet to the front of the refrigerator that read: HELP YOURSELF. She discovered when she opened it that Leon had moved the coffee over to the top shelf and that there were both sandwiches and a baked mac and cheese casserole.

The fridge eventually beeped at her in admonishment after she took too long staring at everything. She hastily pulled the mac and cheese out, moving it to the counter and filling up a bowl which she heated up in the microwave.

In the time it took her to set up her meal, Leon didn’t mysteriously appear. She didn’t even hear him moving around some other part of the house. Much as she hated to think of how they had left things as a fight, whatever she called it, the fact was that he was giving her her space after a disappointing end to an otherwise meaningful conversation.

She hadn’t held back in her report. That wouldn’t help the DSO come up with a realistic threat assessment. She also hadn’t told the truth out of some secret hope that it would keep Leon grounded. Objectively, she knew, that if this was happening between another field agent and a DSO administrator, it was still more likely than not that the field agent would eventually return to work. This job meant taking risks. Personal vendettas unfortunately were not uncommon; they just had to be accounted for.

Ingrid had successfully argued that Helena was in the clear as far as inappropriately personal motivations. Whether her bosses believed it or not, the record stood that with Simmons dead and the attack on Twelve Oaks investigated and resolved, she wasn’t pursuing some kind of vengeance on the Family.

Ingrid took her newly warmed up bowl of mac and cheese casserole back to the couch. The layout of this house was very simple. There were two bedroom suites with their own private bathrooms. The common spaces were a foyer that went directly into this living room, the largest room in the house. On the north side of the house was the kitchen and dining area. Off the east was the pubic half bathroom and a secure home office. Comfortable enough for two adults to work around each other for a few weeks if need be.

This would be a week minimum, Ingrid remembered as she dug into her bowl. It probably would have been excellent hot but it was still pretty good reheated. She also noticed that it had been cooked and put away with Leon taking any for himself. A peace offering? She didn’t want to think about it.

She did slow down towards the bottom of her bowl, not because she was full but because she kept getting lost in her thought. The soft white glow of the Christmas lights in the evergreen garlands was nice. It evoked the season without being overwhelming.

Holidays with her family had been overwhelming. It was easier when she had been living with them, regularly expecting the seasonal madness to build after October until a crescendo into the next year.

It had never been hard for Ingrid to get lost in her thoughts. Her mind didn’t stay with her family problems for too long however. They were too familiar and there was no making progress on that front unless she gave into her mother’s unreasonable demands--and at 33, she wasn’t expecting to marry and start a family anytime soon. 

So with those problems being fully in the realm of the familiar, her thoughts shifted back to work. True, she was on limited information while the threat assessment was underway but she had her memory which was pretty good. The mac and cheese settled comfortably on her stomach. She didn’t even reach for her phone to take notes, just stared off into space, turning over her cases in her mind, until her eyes grew heavy enough to close.

When she woke up again, she was no longer seated with her bowl in her lap. Instead, she had stretched out over most of the couch and a warm blanket was covering her. Her bowl was nowhere in sight.

She got up and folded the blanket before going to check the kitchen. She found her bowl and another in the drying rack. The note on the fridge hadn’t been updated but when she looked inside, she saw one of the sandwiches was gone.

Since Leon still seemed to be giving her space, she took her turn to explore the kitchen and see what they had for supplies. The safe house would have been professionally cleaned before their arrival here so with Leon being so quick with his dishes, he hadn’t exactly left her anything to do to kill time. And he had beaten her to making lunch and dinner.

After heating up a mug off coffee with a splash of cream, she decided she didn’t want to spend this whole week avoiding Leon. She didn’t even want to spend the rest of the night avoiding him. Ingrid finished her drink, cleaned and rinsed her mug and added it to the rack, not wanting to be the one to let the dishes pile up on her account.

Each suite was down a short hallway off the main living room for a little added privacy. She wasn’t completely surprised to see Leon’s door closed. In fact, she was a little relieved that it gave her a moment to breathe and regroup before she knocked.

“Come on in,” was the reply.

Not exactly what she had been expecting. Ingrid hesitated a moment before trying the door, finding it was unlocked. She opened it enough to peer around the corner before opening it the rest of the way.

Much to her annoyance, Leon noticed. Grinning, he asked, “Making sure I’m decent?”

“Yes,” she answered, giving his still damp hair a look before glancing over towards the bathroom door. Just as she expected, she could see the foggy mirror from where she stood a few steps into his room. “Seems like it’s warranted.”

“Don’t worry, Hunnigan, I’m not going to surprise you.” There was still something playful in his smile as he said it but there was something serious there too.

She didn’t know which made her more nervous but she blushed and looked away. Her gaze went to the window and she remarked, surprised, “Oh, it’s snowing again.”

Leon followed her gaze. “Mhm. Maybe enough to slow D.C. down but probably still no more than a few inches if it sticks overnight.” He turned back to her and walked closer. “Everything alright?”

She had been distracted by the snowflakes and she startled slightly when she realized he was almost in reach of her. In fact, his hand started to come up to steady her until they both seemed to realize she was fine.

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to come by and say thank you. For cooking and cleaning up, and for the blanket.” Her cheeks were still felt a little hot but she tried to keep her composure. Leon was watching her intently, even though his smile still seemed relaxed. “And I wanted to apologize for running off earlier.”

Now he shook his head and stepped closer still. “That was my fault.”

“I could have told you what happened.”

“It wasn’t exactly hard to guess.” When her gaze dropped to his shoulder again, he pulled her back with a soft, “Hey.”

Ingrid looked up and her heart jumped when she looked into his eyes.

“This work is always going to be dangerous. I don’t like sitting on my hands and it got to me that Simmons would think she could use me against you. I took that out on you and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

She was shocked and she must have looked it because Leon’s expression hovered somewhere between amusement, annoyance, frustration and concern. It took Ingrid another moment to manage a mumbled, “That’s OK. Apology accepted.”

“OK.” He took another one of those deep breaths she’d been noticing more and more, especially when he took his time letting it go. “Did you want to go out to the living room? I think I saw a TV. There’s probably cable here.”

She surprised him again by pulling a face. “I can’t remember the last time that I watched TV.”

Chuckling, he reached out and touched her arm at the elbow, gently steering her towards the door. “Hunnigan, has it really been that long since you’ve vegged out?”

She took a few steps before she turned back, ostensibly to answer him, but as soon as she did, she realized how close he was and her feet stopped. Leon stepped into her, surprised, and bumped against her.

The hand that was on her arm went to her back instead to make sure she stayed upright. Her hand settled on his chest, just like it had on the balcony the first time he caught her. It was closer to center of him but she could still feel his heartbeat just to the edge of her fingertips.

“This is ridiculous.” She barely breathed the words but there was anger and frustration there, not as much with him as with herself. “I don’t want to veg out. And I’m not a yo-yo! I can’t keep getting close to you and then pulling back. I’m sorry that my feelings for you put you in danger but either you trust me to be professional enough to let you go and do your job, or you don’t.”

Her voice had climbed with the words but most of the energy had bled off now that everything had tumbled out of her in a rush. Ingrid finally realized the hand that had been resting on his chest had instead curled into his shirt and that Leon was staring at her, his mouth open, his jaw slack.

She blushed but pushed through her self-consciousness to ask him earnestly, “Do you trust me, Leon?

“Yes,” he answered without hesitating.

“OK. Good.” And then Ingrid reached up and pulled him down into a searing kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

He had really thought that letting Hunnigan in for a few minutes wouldn’t throw him off. But from the moment she blushed at the idea of him answering the door in some kind of state of undress, he’d been reminded of this new undercurrent in everything they did, an attraction that kept getting acknowledged then ignored--or more accurately, interrupted and set aside.

Well, there was nothing interrupting them now when Hunnigan pulled him down into a heated kiss. The hand that had gone to the back of his neck slid up until her fingers could tangle in his hair. It wasn’t some chaste or uncertain kiss either; it was every bit as certain and hungry as things had gotten before they’d sprung apart on the balcony, moments before Helena had been the bearer of bad news.

His shoulder twinged a little as he wrapped his arms around her and he thanked whatever lucky stars he had left that he’d remembered to take the meds the doctor had given him. Usually he was too stubborn or proud to use those kinds of things, maybe partly out of an unreasonable anxiety since Raccoon City that what he needed would be scarce, if there was anything to be had at all.

But as his arms wrapped around Hunnigan, thoughts about his partner and the past left his head completely. He kissed her back just as hungrily while his hand slid lower over her back, almost to her ass although the thick sweater was still in the way of getting any proper feel for her.

She still moaned into his mouth, electrifying him. He pushed her the rest of the way towards the door but not before shutting it behind her, giving him a surface to back her up against.

Hunnigan collided with the door with a gasp that quickly became another needy moan as he stepped into her again. Now his hands went right to her hips, pushing that soft, bulky sweater out of the way until he could find skin.

Both her hands, now on his shirt, curled into fists as she cried out, almost like she was startled, “Leon!”

His hands circled her waist and pulled her away from the door, into him. His whole body felt like it was burning up with her pressed up against him. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice rough with the desires and impulses clashing within him.

“No!” she said so quickly he almost laughed at the thought that he’d offended her. Some change in his expression must have frustrated her because she was giving him one of her looks, one that he recognized from a dozen times in their history where she was, in fact, irritated with him but ready to back his play.

“I’m sorry,” he said and even though some of that laugh escaped in what his inflection, all the affection in his smile also showed a dead seriousness as he asked, “Should I be letting you lead?”

_That_ question resulted in her squirming directly against him, her hips twisting against his because he’d pulled her in against him. A familiar twinge of heat pooled in him, obvious enough to him. To her too, he guessed, from the way the color flooded her cheeks.

“Just,” she seemed to struggle with herself before asking, “Not so fast, please.” She was barely able to meet his gaze over her glasses as she added in a mumble, “Don’t you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?”

_Jesus Christ._ The sudden reminder that Hunnigan had considered herself in love with him at some point, back in the day, was a pointed one. It didn’t through a damper on the hunger he was feeling--the opposite, really--but it was enough for him to gather the tatters of his self-control and wrestle them back from his runaway ego.

This time when she kissed him it was so sweet, he felt guilty. There was no denying the wanting underneath now that he’d seen it but in this moment, she was savoring, acting cautiously because she thought he was just going to rush through things. Maybe thinking he wanted to do this once and just get her out of his system.

No fucking way.

Leon pushed her back into the door again but per her wishes, his hands slid away from her skin. They did travel over her ass before he pinned her in place but he let that touch be enough to hold him until he could get more. Once his hands were firmly holding onto her hips, the rest of him went as still as it could while he focused on kissing Hunnigan.

She sighed with relief as he kissed her slowly, deliberately. The hand that had tangled in his hair relaxed and went back to exploring him. The other hand wandered over his chest as much as she could reach of him. He didn’t miss either that her touch was lighter as her hand passed over his injuries.

He stopped himself from rocking against her again. He was already hard, there was no hiding that, but he’d already spooked her once and he didn’t dare do it again. As he pulled her lower lip between his teeth, he felt her hips jerk against his hands. He eased his hold so that he wasn’t stopping her but kept his hands on her, moving with her, letting her lead.

She moaned as he soothed over the place he had nipped with his tongue. Her hips were rolling against him now, not any kind of big, obvious movement but impossible for him to miss pressed up against her like this.

He finally broke away from her mouth, breathing raggedly. He had to close his eyes for a moment before he trusted himself enough to look up and ask, “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

He didn’t think it was possible for her to get a deeper scarlet. It ran all the way down her neck and he was absolutely certain that if he took off that damn sweater, it would be the same way down her chest and shoulders, deepening the color of her dusky skin.

Something must have changed in his expression because she whimpered needily as she stared at him, unable to offer him anything more coherent than that.

His hips jerked against hers for a moment before he got himself under his control again. He was breathing deeply but obviously as he stared at her searchingly. “Hunnigan, I’ll give you anything you want,” he said, hearing the desperation in his low voice, like he was pleading with her. “Just tell me.”

Her beautiful hazel eyes went wide. “What about what _you_ want?”

Leon couldn’t help it. He at least angled the sharp bark of self-effacing laughter down into her shoulder, not wanting to shout in her ear, pressed up against her like he was. The hands that had been on his chest flew up, over his shoulders, wrapping around him in a protective embrace.

Somehow her mouth had ended up by his ear and Leon shuddered as her breath hit his skin, warm and wanting as she asked him, “Is this going to be a one-time thing?”

His fingers curled into her hips and she whimpered again, louder this time and not just because she was by his ear. “No. I mean--I don’t want it to be,” he answered roughly against her neck.

She must have went weak at the knees because suddenly she went almost dead weight on him. While he moved instinctively to keep her pinned against the door, the shift was enough to aggravate his injured shoulder as she pulled down on him. He exhaled in a hiss of pain that made her startle back to her feet.

“You shoulder--!”

“Ingrid, stop.” The words were low enough to almost be a growl but she stilled underneath him, staring at him as he pulled back to meet her gaze. “Stop,” he said more gently, brushing his mouth against hers as he begged her, “Trust me.”

She melted again but this time against the door, without pulling on him. “I do,” she whispered against his lips. “I trust you, Leon.”

He couldn’t slow down completely. She seemed to have gotten over enough of her fear and anxiety to accept his pace--or maybe it was just trusting him, now that they’d affirmed that. He pulled her away from the door without pushing his hands back up to her waist. He didn’t try to remove any of her clothing as he steered her towards the bed.

She still broke their kiss with a gasp when the back of her knees hit the mattress. He guided her up onto the mattress, pushing her back a little further so he could climb up with her, settling on his right side with his left hand reaching out for her.

But she didn’t let him settle like that. Instead, she started moving back towards him, pushing carefully on his chest below his shoulder until he was laying on his back. Before he could protest, she was on her knees, balancing there for only a moment before she threw her leg over his hip to straddle him.

“Christ, Hunnigan!” His hips jumped up under her, making him realize she was just a little too high, seated closer to his waist instead of over the parts of him that wanted the weight of her most desperately.

She still bit her lip and let her eyes roll shut at the movement, and even though she was fully dressed, Leon Kennedy was pretty damn sure that was the expression she wore as she concentrated on the feel of him was the sexiest goddamn thing that had ever happened to him in his life.

Her eyes opened again, sooner than he expected, and with them came a smile that completely leveled him. “A moment ago, it was Ingrid,” she teased breathlessly.

“Keep messing with me and pretty soon it’s going to be _Director_ ,” he shot back, more than a little short of breath himself.

Not only did he make her laugh, Leon felt a unique surge of satisfaction when her hands jumped up to her body and passed quickly over her breasts and across her stomach, a light but unconscious movement, a touch trying to give herself some kind of relief.

She only seemed to realize that she had touched herself, however fleetingly, when she looked down and saw the flash in his eyes and his smirk. “Leon!”

“God, I’ve missed hearing you say my name,” he said and the confession left him in a rush before he could think the better of it.

He had no time to get embarrassed about it because she melted immediately into a warm smile that rippled through him. “I missed you calling me Hunnigan.”

Smiling back at her, he hardly even felt the twinge in his shoulder or the uncomfortable ache of his cock straining at his jeans. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. I mean it, Hunnigan,” he said, wanting to say her name again, now that everything wasn’t such a whirlwind. “I want more than just tonight.”

Her hands, which had been resting on her legs, now slid inwards along her thighs before finding his belt. She lifted herself off of his hips and onto her knees as her fingers nimbly undid the buckle. “Me too,” she said, looking up to meet his gaze before looking down again at her hands as she made quick work of his button and fly.

Leon groaned as she pushed his jeans open and away enough to give him some relief. She looked up again, flushed but triumphant. She settled back on his hips but lower this time, the curve of her ass resting deliberately against him.

Her eyes rolled shut again and she hummed, pleased, even before she rocked back against him.

His right hand grabbed a fistful of quilt to anchor himself. His left hand, a little more conscious of the aching twinge in his bad shoulder, just pressed flat against the bed as he tried to keep himself from bucking his hips hard underneath her.

“How slow do you want to go?” he heard himself ask hoarsely. It was only after he asked that he realized he was still white knuckling the sheets with one hand and his efforts to control his breathing just sounded like panting.

She looked at him, her smile growing as she reached up to pull her hair loose with one hand while the other pulled off her glasses. Her voice was low, lower than he expected, as she answered, “As slow as you can stand, Agent Kennedy.”


	16. Chapter 16

Before he could say anything and before she could lose her courage, Ingrid surged forward, dropping her glasses on his nightstand before balancing on her hands so she could meet his mouth for a kiss. She had to admit that she was impressed that his hands stayed on the sheets even as he responded to her kiss, twisting under her slightly but only moving to meet her mouth with his own.

She stayed like that a bit longer than she intended, getting lost in the sensation. It had been just as good kissing him before he backed her into the door. She hadn’t expected to be so startled when his hands had snuck under her sweater but the shock of what they were doing had come over her, sudden and fast.

She had dreamed about kissing Leon Scott Kennedy as soon as she’d met him. She’d dreamed about a lot more too but sometimes it seemed even that simple touch was so far out of reach that to suddenly be offered _everything_ had been overwhelming.

His hands had finally let go of the quilt and came back to her legs, sliding up over the soft fabric of her leggings. Ingrid had originally picked them out because they were thick enough to keep her warm. Now, she was aware that they there were still thin enough for her to feel his heated touch through the fabric, the shape of his palms and the press of his finger tips as they swept upwards.

Part of her was amused and not at all surprised when they went back to the curve they had only skimmed over before. Still, it was a rush when Leon gave her ass a quick squeeze. She hummed appreciatively into the kiss, nipping at his lip before she pulled away.

His eyes followed after her as she sat back up, balancing on her knees instead of sitting on him again. She tossed the hair tie to one side, not half as concerned with finding it again as she had been with her glasses. She’d brought a whole pack when she’d prepared to come to the safe house; losing one in Leon’s room wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Then of course she thought about someone else finding it while cleaning up and she faltered briefly. Immediately she was aware of his hands, holding her up, supporting her, even though it probably hurt his injured shoulder to suddenly take her weight again and he’d probably be just as happy helping her back into his lap.

But he seemed to be taking everything so seriously, even in the moments before when he had been teasing. His bright blue eyes were turned with all their intelligent focus on her as he asked quickly, “You OK?”

“Yes.” Her voice was higher than when she’d quipped at him, teasing him with formalities. This cycling between confidence and uncertainty was maddening. She wouldn’t say Leon was taking it completely in stride but he was certainly being very understanding.

He finally did guide her to sit but on his legs, over his thighs, letting go part way into the motion to use his right arm to push himself up so he was sitting up with her.

The first thing he did was brush her hair back from her face, his hand coming back around to brush over her cheek and along her jaw. His gaze dropped to her mouth briefly before he looked back up to her eyes again.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice lowered but not enough to mask both the desire and the concern there.

She blushed, embarrassed and grateful, an even more confusing roil of feeling. “It’s just been a long time,” she blurted out suddenly, before she could offer a less revealing explanation.

There was a flash in his eyes and she felt her heart drop into her stomach as she realized just how tightly he was holding onto his self-control right now, wanting her but staying still, following her lead.

“Yeah, for me too,” he said softly at last. Even though regret colored the words, she didn’t get the sense that it was regret in admitting it to her. It was something else. Some _one_ else, most likely.

The hand that had been brushing along her jaw moved up instead to cup her cheek. She turned instinctively into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment as she let go of her embarrassment and focused on how much she appreciated him instead.

When she opened her eyes, he was still watching her intently.

“I want to,” she said just as suddenly, insistently.

His mouth barely quirked up in the beginnings of a smile. “I know.” He added, his voice low but reverberating through her, “Me too.”

She already felt stripped naked under that piercing blue gaze. “It will change things.” Her voice was a whisper. Maybe the words were meant more for herself than for him.

But he heard them and he responded first by leaning in to kiss her, softly at first and then more firmly. He didn’t deepen the kiss, just held it until he had to break away to draw in a breath, his eyes finding hers again. “Things have already been changing.” He watched her closely as he said in the same low voice, “Even before the party.”

The way he said it with that look sent a curl of heat right through her.

“Like you said, you’re not a yo-yo.” There was such affection in his words that she almost laughed again. She couldn’t ever remember laughing this much, especially not when she’d been trying to be intimate. Boyfriends, hook ups, she never really relaxed because when her guard was down. That was when her nerves could show and Ingrid Hunnigan hated being nervous.

But even though she felt butterflies as Leon looked at her and even though she was sure she was still very red, she didn’t look away from him for more than a moment and she was smiling when she looked back. His hand had dropped so his thumb could sweep over her jaw again. Her head tilted instinctively into his touch as she watched him.

“Ingrid.” He was still trying out her name, being careful with it, but she liked the way it sounded on his tongue. Different than his customary _Hunnigan_ but the affection was there, unmistakably. “Our lives are only going to get more dangerous. Whether I stay in D.C. or go back into the field. But I promise, if you want me, you’ll have all of me.”

Her jaw dropped and her mouth opened into a soft _oh_ of surprise. Another flash of something went through his eyes and for a moment, she was certain he had smiled but it was gone just as quickly. Just thinking she had seen it made it impossible to sit still. She wiggled in his lap in a moment of anxious, excited energy.

Suddenly his arm was around her back and he had pulled her flush against him. She gasped at the feel of his chest against hers--pressure but no heat through her thick sweater. She also felt him between her legs and _that_ heat she felt all too keenly.

His mouth was almost against hers when he asked, “Is this what you want?”

“Yes!”

It was too much. She was being unreasonable, greedy. The small part of her that was always scared of losing control wanted to grab the word back from the cold winter air and shove it down deep inside herself, never to be said again.

But Leon had pulled her back into him and was kissing her so sweetly that every thought and every fear flew right out of her head. Her hands came back up and tangled in his long hair, darker now than it had been when they first met but the asymmetrical cut of his bangs still the same, still familar.

His hands dragged down along her spine and she gasped at the sense of _need_ in the hungry action echoed through her in sharp contrast to the deliberate gentleness of his kiss. Her hips started to roll against him and he moved under her, slow but certain, following her lead. 


	17. Chapter 17

When he was 27, he wouldn’t have been ready for the idea of Hunnigan being in love with him. A part of him wasn’t sure he was ready for it now but even if she wasn’t exactly, everything that had happened over the last few days told him that if she wasn’t _that_ deep, she still was pretty deep in _something_ with him. And he was right there with her, falling faster by the minute.

He hated admitting time’s toll on him. Hated thinking about how this long, unending fight--fifteen years of his life now--had done its best to dull his convictions. It had taken family and friends from him. He honestly thought he had given it everything.

But she saw something left in him and as much as it scared her, he could see how much she wanted him. Hell, it scared him too, knowing that she had been always been just as driven--maybe even more driven than him.

It had been the two of them and Adam in the fight for so long that losing their friend had necessarily changed things for both of them. Hunnigan had started falling towards obsession and vengeance. Everything had started to fade gray for him.

Not any more. Everything about this moment, the sights, the sounds, the feel of her riding him damn near fully clothed was going seared into every nerve ending. He felt alive again.

And that feeling, like Hunnigan, was precious to him.

That was why it was so easy to kiss her so carefully, so intentionally despite wanting her with increasing desperation. His hands were shaking slightly as he let them move to her thighs, resting them half on the hem of her sweater.

He broke the kiss long enough to ask her, “Can I take this off please?”

Another laugh bubbled up and escaped her. He could still see her try to stop it at first, reflexively, but once it escaped, she only touched her face briefly, a quick gesture of shyness, before her hands came down to join his to help take it off.

Despite her request to go slowly, Leon had barely gotten the material clear from her arms before he felt her hands fall to the hem of his shirt. Fair was fair and if being shirtless distracted her enough to help her feel less self-conscious, well, it wasn’t like taking five seconds to give her that really pained him.

Other than his shoulder but Leon refused to wince as the shirt cleared his head and ended up thrown in the direction of the floor. He was too busy watching Hunnigan and breaking into a grin at the way she was looking at him.

His eyes did drop eventually and even though he bit down on his lip a low groan rumbled through him. It was enough to startle Hunnigan who’s fingers curled into his chest, the bite of her nails probably not hard enough to leave a mark, not that he would have minded.

He was still grinning as he said, his voice low and hungry, “Damn, you look good, Hunnigan.”

“Oh my god, Leon.” She covered her face but she had started laughing again, this time really unable to help herself.

Honestly, that just made her look even more incredible. The flush that he’d been imagining definitely did spread from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. What was funny was that what otherwise probably passed for a ‘nude’ colored bra was now obviously artificial against her skin.

Not that the lacy cups didn’t look incredible, a point he decided to acknowledge non-verbally by leaning her back so that he could kiss his way down her pulsepoint, over her collarbone and down her sternum until he was directly between her breasts.

She was saying his name again. One of her hands had gotten tangled in his hair again, a fist at the base of his skull, pulling at him sharply as he placed his first open-mouthed kiss over the lace, through it, aware of her underneath the thin fabric. Much to his surprise, her voice got lower the needier she got, his name coming in longer and longer moans as he teased his way from one breast to the other.

As slow as he could stand hopefully was slow enough for her because it felt like his patience ran out too quickly. His hand went to the back and found the clasp, undoing it easily despite being out of practice, more the result of determination than anything else. It fell forward at first between them, the straps sliding down her arms before she pulled back enough to pull it off entirely and toss it away from them.

Suspecting that she might go shy again if he just went still and started staring at her again, Leon settled on a compromise and let his hands explore her newly bared skin, following after the path of his hands with his eyes. It seemed to work well for Hunnigan whose eyes had rolled shut in a blissful expression as she pressed herself into his hands.

Distantly he was aware of the twinge in his shoulder but it wasn’t until her hand brushed lightly over the newly forming scar that he slowed down his attentions, looking up to catch her gaze.

She blushed but after glancing at his shoulder, she looked back at him, her gaze open and surprisingly unafraid.

“Lay down,” she instructed him.

It was a tone he’d learned not to argue with a long time ago but he still found himself insisting, “I’m fine, Hunnigan,” even as he did.

She smiled at him, shaking her head. The simple gesture seemed almost brand new to him with the cascade of wavy brown hair loose around her shoulder. “Stop doing all the hard work,” she scolded him but her smile was still unmistakably affectionate as she went to work on his boxers and jeans.

Leon had to admit, it was a relief to finally have the rest of the clothes off him. He might have argued more about not needing the rest for his shoulder but he was aware of the dull throb as he lay there, waiting for her to come back to him.

Before she did, she rolled off the bed, dropping his remaining clothes near the shirt he’d discarded what felt like a lifetime ago. Standing next to him, just out of reach, she gave him what was undoubtedly the most cheeky grin he had ever seen from her before hooking her fingers into the waistband of her leggings.

“Ingrid--” he growled, warningly, already getting up on his right arm when she bent over in a single graceful move and pulled the leggings and her socks off.

Standing in front of him in nothing more than the matching lace thong, she seemed to be fighting to hide her smile as she mock-scolded him, “I thought I told you to lay down.”

He flopped backwards on the bed with a groan that dissolved into laughter when he didn’t mean for it to.

He was aware of the bed shifting underneath her, the dips that signified her hands and knees as she crawled back over him. Her face appeared over hers and there was a touch of her earlier concern until she saw his smile.

She smiled back and it brought a little color back to her cheeks but she didn’t look away as she told him, “I thought you might like taking them off,” lifting his hand up to one of her hips.

“You’ve got that right,” Leon muttered roughly, the other hand coming up to catch the other side of the lacy little nothing underwear.

He went as slow as he could, mindful of not ruining them. He supposed that bit of patience was rewarded by the way Ingrid sighed at his touch, getting up as necessary and helping them finish the job when they were at the edge of his reach. They were dropped without further ceremony on the floor, with the rest of their things.

Her eyes were sweeping over him so he felt free to do the same. He didn’t mean to get so lost in staring at her that when her hand brushed feather-lightly over his cock, he almost jumped out of his skin, swearing.

“Sorry!” she gasped, apparently embarrassed but also obviously delighted, half on the verge of giggling.

“No,” Leon took a deep enough breath to compose himself and added insistently, “Don’t be.”

“I don’t have a condom. But I’m on an IUD,” she added quickly, nervous but not nearly as much as she had been when they started. Her eyes were searching his as she asked, “Is that OK?”

“What?” Leon stared up at her, still feeling like his stomach had dropped from the quick rollercoaster between point A and point B of those two very direct sentences. “Yes! Fuck--yes, as long as that’s good enough for you, that’s more than enough for me.”

Another smile broke suddenly over her features. “You seem flustered, Agent Kennedy.”

“Hunnigan, I swear, if you keep saying my name like that when I’m already about to go to pieces, I’m going to jump you in your office the next time you call me that on the job.”

He had meant the suggestion to be ridiculous enough to make her laugh again but whatever shyness that had made her so self-conscious earlier was barely more than a blink as she seemed to consider the idea.

“ _Director_ \--” he growled, half provoking, half warning.

She shivered, a delicious tremor that went through her whole body. “Fine, you made your point.” No matter how briskly she said it, he could tell now it wasn’t with the same detachment that usually followed that kind of rebuke. It didn’t bother him. He searched her face to make sure it didn’t bother her.

If it did, it was a distant thought, far away. Her gaze was open and hungry, and her smile came easily as she met his eyes. “Help me?” she asked him, simply and directly. They were so close now that all she had to do was brush her hand over his for him to know exactly what she wanted.

Her hand came back to his cock and stroked him, even though he was certain he couldn’t get any harder. His hand slipped between her legs and then up to the heat of her. His fingers explored her, slowly at first, but after his thumb grazed over her clit and she jerked forward, almost falling onto him before catching herself on her free hand.

“I’m OK,” she reassured him, pushing back up and putting her hands on his for a moment. Maybe she wasn’t ready to say what she wanted but at least now she was ready to show him.

While his fingers were sliding in and out of her, and her hips were bucking at his hand in a slowly increasing pace, he watched her and he listened to her. Her hand eventually went back to teasing along his shaft, her thumb circling his head in time with his own strokes, synchronizing them.

Just before he was certain he couldn’t take any more, her eyes opened and locked onto his. In silent agreement, they shifted to fit their bodies together and she was so ready that she sank down onto him in one smooth movement, moaning his name loudly.

Frankly, he didn’t know how how he didn’t come right there and then. It only took her a moment before she started moving with him. Slow seemed to have gone right out the window. That was fine with him. His hands gripped her hips. She fell forward again slightly but only enough that her hands were braced against his chest. Any pain from the pressure or her nails or, hell, whatever twinged in his injured shoulder was completely subsumed by the pleasure of her riding him hard and desperate.

He came first, despite reaching down, intending to send her over the edge before him. The first waves hit him and then he realized she was already there, locked in free fall with him, her shout a sharp punctuate to his low groan and her breathless exhale of his name almost as tangible as the nails biting into his skin. She held onto him tightly, willfully, and it felt like there was nothing left when he collapsed back on the bed.

But somehow he reached up to catch her instinctively, helping her roll off him and make it safely to the space on the bed beside him, her body still twitching slightly as she hummed, wantonly running her hands over her still sensitive skin.

Leon turned just enough to look at her, sharing in her amazement. “Ingrid?” he asked softly, almost worried that her eyes were still closed.

She opened them, though not quite fully. Looking up at him, she gave him a sweet, tender smile. “Yes, Leon?”

He found himself smiling back. “Did you want to get under the covers?”

Sighing, she muttered, “That sounds like work,” but she started wiggling enough that, with his help, they were both able to get underneath them eventually.

The slight activity brought back an unpleasant awareness of his injured shoulder but they settled in eventually with her turned towards him and him on his back, like a mirror of that night on the ship although this time she was on his other side.

Her hand still settled over the middle of his chest as her eyes closed. He watched her, waiting for her to drift before he finally let himself fall asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

The next few days were a painfully obvious honeymoon phase. That didn’t seem to bother either of them.

Ingrid remembered it more in broad impressions although she knew all the specifics would be there in her memory if she absolutely needed them. She and Leon talked. A lot. More than they had in all the years they had known each other before.

But the dam had broken and in between the moments of vulnerability, there was comfort and intimacy and, yes, the kind of incredible sex that people kept insisting anyone could have but that always used to feel out of reach.

Each time it was easier. She still went shy at certain moments but the doubt that had her feeling like the yo-yo she described had faded away. Leon steadily showed less and less patience when she teased him, but he gave back that teasing even better than her, usually over the course of the whole day.

He had to run out one of the days to see his doctor. No other agents accompanied him and he had sent her texts almost every hour until he returned. Her favorite was the one from just after his doctor had finished with him which she could hear in his wry cadence explicitly: _I’m not giving my shoulder enough rest._

She had laughed in the emptiness of the safe house and then double checked their groceries. Sherry and Helena were shipping out the day after Christmas. Sherry had asked about coming back for Christmas Eve.

Maybe there was a bit of morbid curiosity. Was it obvious? It felt obvious to her. She couldn’t remember ever being so relaxed, so at ease in her own skin. Even though she brushed her hair and drew it back in her signature tight bun, the personal clothing she had packed still felt loose and forgiving around her body, not quite as strict as her usual professional wardrobe.

Leon also seemed like the best version of himself again. He smiled and needled Helena almost as soon as his partner stepped through the door. Her surprise immediate turned into amusement as she met the challenge. Sherry had looked between them and at Ingrid before coming in to offer the DSO director a wreath.

So, she decided, it was obvious to them. They knew Leon well enough. She saw certain looks later, mostly between the women, but a few aimed at Leon who they knew better. She expected to feel embarrassed about it but Sherry and Helena seemed to accept the unspoken change easily enough.

The dinner was one of the nicest she’d had in ages, Christmas or otherwise. Ingrid mostly only talked when Sherry asked her a question but no one seemed to mind her reserved nature. The three field agents filled in any gaps in conversation nicely with stories, banter, and teasing.

Ingrid couldn’t help but feel… contentment. This was more than what she had hoped for with Leon when she had brought Helena on as his partner and when Sherry, released from Derek Simmons, started to integrate properly with the DSO at large. The three agents were fast friends; none of them felt alone in the world anymore.

“You’re smiling again,” Leon murmured in her ear as he handed her a refilled flute of champagne.

It was only her second but she was trying to be careful. Even if everyone was in unspoken agreement, the last thing she needed to do was let the bubbly go to her head. Fraternization didn’t come up a lot in the DSO but it had the same broad rules as any branch of the DOD. She was technically Leon’s superior. The whole reason they were here was because an enemy of the DSO had threatened to use Leon as leverage against her.

Danica Simmons had an even better bargaining chip now then when she had Leon at her mercy and chose only to wound him to prove her point. The more time they spent together in the safe house, the more Ingrid was certain she’d come full circle and fallen completely in love with him again.

But it was different now, she thought as she watched him rejoin Helena and Sherry on the couch. She had taken the arm chair, ostensibly to remind herself to behave, but the three of them seemed very cozy together, Leon turning back and forth between the two women as they talked.

When she was younger, she had fallen in love with a very idealized version of Leon Kennedy. She was still getting to know the star agent who answered directly to the president. He beat incredible odds to get him and Ashley Graham back to the US safely--especially considering they both had been infected.

At the time, Leon hadn’t mentioned Ada Wong in his reports. But Ingrid wouldn’t have been a very good support technician if she hadn’t figured out he had some kind of outside help, even if little existed anywhere on the mercenary woman.

That had all been clouded further by Carla Redmames. She hadn’t had Ms. Wong’s sense of self-preservation--although Ingrid supposed she should be thankful for that since only Carla turning against Derek Simmons had set things in motion for Leon and Helena to take the corrupt advisor down.

“Director?”

The way Leon said her title did send a little thrill through her though they had come to a mutual understanding not to use those titles when teasing each other, not wanting it to become a problem when they actually did get back to things professionally. “Yes?” she asked Leon with a smile that hopefully was more acceptable to the friendly distance they were pretending.

“You just looked kind of lost in thought,” he said lightly, following up with an easy, “Everything OK?”

She nodded and said wryly, “I know I shouldn’t be thinking about work on Christmas.”

“But it can be kind of hard to turn it off,” Helena offered for her and Ingrid nodded, lifting her glass to her in silent thanks.

“I’m glad we got to do something for the holidays,” Sherry added, looking between everyone with one of her warm, genuine smiles that got everyone, even Helena, smiling back. “I know we can’t always count on it in this business but it’s nice.”

“It was really nice of you two to come back and keep us company,” Ingrid said graciously but the words weren’t just lip service. It had been a really good evening.

“But we don’t want to end up having to use the couch futon because we had a few too many,” Helena said and even though her voice had the same practiced lightness as Leon’s, Ingrid was certain this was a deliberate first step in getting the other agent aimed towards the end objective of leaving.

It was still a process but Ingrid had to admire Helena’s light, determined touch as she did eventually wind things down and get them both from the couch to the door about an hour after her initial play. The Helena Harper who had gotten kicked out of the Secret Service had been too driven by her sense of justice to know how to pull back, crossing a line and assaulting a suspect because of how he threatened a victim’s family. She might well break the rules again if she felt they were getting in the way of doing the right thing but Ingrid was pleased to see her manage a bit of finese when the circumstances called for it.

Sherry had given hugs and Helena had given handshakes. Well, she had shaken Ingrid’s hand and she had patted Leon’s upper shoulder, a quick silent conversation between the partners taking place in the space it took her to lift her head and him to lower his.

Still, Ingrid waited until she heard the driveway sensor chime overhead before she turned back to Leon with a sheepish smile. “That obvious, huh.”

“‘fraid so,” he answered but without any obvious concern. He closed the distance between them to give her a kiss.

She wrapped his arms around his waist and he wrapped his good arm around her shoulders. They were trying to take the doctor seriously and actually give him the rest he needed to start physical therapy.

“I should probably tell Claire before Sherry does,” he added, dropping a kiss on her temple, “If that’s alright.”

“Of course. Do you think a lot of people are going to want to know, besides Claire?”

Leon shook his head. “I mean, she might tell Chris and I doubt he’d take it further than Jill Valentine but I doubt it. The Redfields are close but I can’t imagine why Chris would care to know.”

That was actually a comforting thought. “I can’t tell my family without it becoming a whole… thing.” She had scrunched up her nose in distaste at the thought but she wasn’t worried that Leon would misunderstand her. She had opened up a lot about her parents in their few days together.

And just so, Leon nodded. “They’re still running the threat assessment.”

“And they’d separate us for fraternization, never mind the fact that we are, essentially, giving Danica exactly the kind of strong personal bond she was hoping to exploit.”

“‘Strong personal bond’ sounds kind of clinical, Hunnigan.”

She thumped his chest, making sure her hand was fully on his good side. “What do you want me to say, Leon?” she groaned, smiling.

His eyes met hers. It was one of those unguarded looks, his way of speaking without speaking.

That was when her brain caught back up to speed. Champagne or not, Ingrid had always prided herself on being smart, analytical. It didn’t take a genius to put the silence and the question together to at least one answer she felt fairly certain was the right one.

Her hand was still on his chest. He was still staring at her, hesitating.

“It’s not going to scare you off, is it?” she found herself asking, her voice softer than it had been in days. Old fears whispered at the edges of her mind, of her heart. She cleared her throat and said a little more clearly, “If I say it?”

“Say what?” he prompted, maybe just purely reflexively.

She gave him a frown of irritation and he at least blushed slightly, shifting out of his stillness, maybe ready to say something.

She beat him to it. “I do love you, Leon. For the first time or all over again, I can’t say. But I’ve been falling for you for a long time and this is it. I love you.”

He didn’t answer her with words. Honestly, there was a relief in that. The way his eyes flashed was more and more familiar to her. The way he kissed her and how one kiss led into the next one and into the next one until he was pushing her back towards her room. They weren’t as careful as they should have been but when they finally collapsed and then came together to sleep, she was completely at peace.


End file.
